


Secrets

by AuntieEm73



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angry Thranduil, Arranged Marriage, Caring Thranduil, Deceit, Double Life, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Oral Sex, Stubborness, Thranduil can be a total asshole, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:20:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28984011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuntieEm73/pseuds/AuntieEm73
Summary: Faerthurin is destined to marry King Thranduil, against her will, when all she wants is to lead a life of her own choosing. She wants to be a fighter, a warrior. An opportunity presents itself, allowing her to lead a double life. One where she is Thranduil's queen, while the king prefers to have nothing to do with her, and one where she can be herself. There is only one problem. The king is attracted to her alter ego. How long can she keep up the deceit? Will her secrets ever be discovered? And if that happens, what will the consequences be?
Relationships: Thranduil (Tolkien)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 58





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written early 2020. Enjoy!
> 
> Translations:  
>  _Faerthurin_ \- Secret Spirit  
>  _Dîs_ \- Bride

Chapter 1

“It is time you are wed again, my Lord,” the king’s advisor insisted. 

“I have ruled for hundreds of years, without a companion by my side. I don’t want a wife… I have no need for a wife,” Thranduil responded angrily.

“But, my Lord…”the advisor protested”, earning him a scolding look from his king.

“… you must consider your reputation, how you are perceived by your subjects… they only want you to be happy,” he continued.

“I care not what other people think of me, nor do I have the need to be happy. It does nothing for my abilities as a ruler,” Thranduil dismissed the advisor’s insistent tone.

“This may be true, my Lord, but there are still kingdoms in Middle-Earth that are shall we say… _traditional_. They refuse to trade with us unless you are able to show your empathy by taking a new wife,” his advisor tried to explain. 

Mennor had been the advisor to the king for centuries. He knew the king through and through and knew that if he ventured carefully, he could convey his point that would allow Thranduil to take his advice into consideration.

“They believe a king’s rule is admirable with a significant other by his side,” Mennor tried again. Thranduil grunted loudly. In some way, he understood what Mennor was trying to tell him, but he could not see how his life and that of his kingdom and subjects would benefit so much more, if he had a wife by his side. His cold and distant way of doing things, had kept him and his kingdom afloat for centuries. The passing of his son’s mother had made him seem emotionless, angry, but deep down he was in fact in pain. He had loved his late wife so deeply, that he had vowed to himself that he would never love again. He had no desire to defile his late wife’s memory, by taking another. It just seemed wrong.

His son, Legolas, had already conveyed his opinion on the matter. He too was convinced that his father should have someone significant by his side again. It had after all been long enough since he was parted from his mother. He would certainly never hold it against his father for marrying again, even if the marriage were to be an arranged one. He could learn to love his new wife, as they had time a plenty to grow affectionate towards one another. Legolas wanted nothing more than his father to find happiness again and he was convinced that a new wife would help him with that. 

“Leave!” Thranduil suddenly bellowed towards his advisor.

“I have to think,” he quickly added. Mennor knew better than to linger and discretely removed himself from the king’s ante-chamber. 

*** 

Several days had passed and Thranduil’s troubled mind would not settle. He knew there to be truth to the words of his advisor, but he felt little for the notion of embarking on an arranged marriage. He sat calmly at the large table in the ante-chamber, but his insides were in constant turmoil. He lifted the glass closest to him. It had been half full with the finest of Dorwinion wines, but even the wine could not settle his ever-churning stomach. In a moment of insanity, he lifted the glass above his head and hurled it angrily towards the entrance of his private domain.

Suddenly a fair-haired head poked from around the wooden door with curiosity.

“Everything alright, father?” his son wondered, as he stepped over the shards of glass and the red splashes of wine that had ended up on the stone floor. Legolas knew exactly why his father had been troubled. His duty as king required him to seek alliances, forge trades, become acquainted with the different people around Middle-Earth, all for the benefit of his kingdom. It seemed a number of current alliances were faltering, as their narrow-minded and old-fashioned ideas of royalty needing spouses had become evident. Legolas knew how deeply his father had been hurt, losing the one he had given his very soul to and that he preferred death over having to endure the same feelings all over again. Thranduil, however, was a king of honour and wanted nothing more than the well-being of his subjects, because such was his responsibility. His death would not achieve any of that. 

Thranduil grunted.

“Legolas… please, sit down,” he beckoned his son. Legolas regarded his father’s weary expression, but said nothing and simply waited for his father to speak first.

“I’m at a loss of what to do… you know how I feel about arranged marriages,” he sighed, making Legolas nod in acknowledgement.

“I know father, but they do not always turn out badly… elves typically grow quite fond of one another. Even if a marriage does not develop into a profound deep one, at least you have a chance of finding someone who may just become your best friend and companion… isn’t that also worth something?” Legolas asked, without expecting an answer.

“Being alone is not in our nature. We all need someone special in our lives, or at least temporarily indulge in someone we feel is special at a specific moment in time,” his son grinned mischievously. Thranduil smirked. He knew his son was quite the ladies’ man and had no objections to seeking the pleasures of the flesh on occasion. Legolas always indicated to his father _we all have our needs_.

“I am not like you, son… I need _more_ ,” he frowned deeply, making the crease between his conspicuous eyebrows stand out. Legolas shook his head. 

“You are… soft…” Legolas said, making his father’s head turn toward him angrily.

“… and because of it, you are kind… you have a big heart, yet you refuse to show the elves in the kingdom, or the people outside of it,” Legolas explained.

“I am not soft, nor kind, but I like to think I am fair. I only have the kingdom’s best interest at heart,” he defied his son’s earlier statement.

“I know, father… I stand by what I said… you are too hard on yourself… maybe you need someone to show you who you really are,” Legolas continued to push his father’s buttons.

“I don’t need anyone,” Thranduil now gritted his teeth. Legolas stood.

“Suit yourself… I beg to differ and I do hope you will reconsider,” and with those words Legolas exited his father’s chambers.

Thranduil was being unreasonable and he damn well knew it too. It was the conflict deep within that made him struggle to reach a decision.

*** 

Thranduil looked miserable as he entered the throne hall. Mennor was already present, looking too eager to get started with the day. As soon as he took note of his king’s facial expression, his bright demeanour changed to one of caution.

“Good morning, my Lord,” Mennor spoke with respect. 

“Morning it is, though whether it is good, that remains to be seen,” Thranduil replied in a huff. Mennor took a step back in response. His king was in a foul mood it seemed and he deemed it wise to stay out of his proverbial hair.

“Mennor…” Thranduil began, making his advisor look up anxiously.

“… find me a wife,” he continued, to which Mennor’s face broke into a huge smile.

“Stop that!” the king insisted, instantly wiping the advisor’s happiness from his face. 

“Very good, my Lord. Please do tell me, does your future wife… should she… uhm… do you have any specific wishes?” Mennor chose his word carefully.

“I do not care, as long as she does not assume that I am by her side all the time… I cannot be, nor do I have the desire to be… she will have to be on her own a lot… I do not even wish to share chambers with her… she can do as she pleases… this marriage will be a formality only,” the king explained, boring his eyes into the advisor’s, ensuring his message was successfully conveyed.

“As you wish, my Lord,” Mennor bowed lightly, before opening the ledger he was carrying to go over the usual business of the day.

*** 

“Please, Faer… be reasonable… this is the greatest of honours,” her mother spoke insistently.

“Reasonable? I don’t want to marry… least of all a cold-hearted elf who claims to be our king. How have we ever benefited from having the high and mighty Thranduil as our king? He cares about no one,” Faer huffed.

“I don’t think you are being fair, my dear,” her mother tried again.

“He has always ruled justly and cared for the people in our kingdom… even for us, when times were hard…” the woman was interrupted.

“Hush now, Paddriel,” the ellon stared at her intently. The elf moved closer to his daughter and sat down on the chaise longue beside her. He took her small hands into his larger ones.

“My dearest Faerthurin… I could not part with you if I didn’t think your future husband was worthy. It is true that king Thranduil seems cold at times, but I can assure you, he has no ill intent to any of us. He will provide for you, care for you and perhaps in time, he might grow to love you,” her father explained.

“I daresay, you will find that he can be quite entertaining. He is well-educated, very eloquent as well as intelligent. If anything, you will have plenty of matters to talk to him about,” her father continued.

“But I don’t want to talk to him… not about anything… at all… I don’t want to be restrained, I want to be free to do whatever I like. I don’t want to wear dresses or gowns… I want to ride horses, wear leggings, practice my sword-skills… I… “ Faer stopped talking. Her father noticed the sadness in her eyes.

“… I want a husband who can respect me for doing all of that and not judge me,” she hung her head.

“King Thranduil might just surprise you, you know,” her father tried again. Paddriel put her hand on her husband’s shoulder, as if to tell him to leave her be. They walked away and as soon as they were out of earshot, they looked at one another.

“I don’t want her to be unhappy, Paddriel, but I genuinely believe she is a good match for the king… she just doesn’t see it yet,” he spoke softly.

“I know, Brandir… I know… she will discover it for herself,” his wife sighed.

*** 

A knock on the door to Thranduil’s chambers could be heard loudly and clearly, before the king sighed and answered the elf that stood outside.

“Enter,” he spoke irritably. Mennor entered, a wide grin on his face.

“I have found you a wife, my Lord,” Mennor began as he approached the king, who was sitting at the large table in the ante-chamber. Thranduil looked up, mildly curious whom Mennor had found to agree to be his wife.

“Very well… what is her name?” Thranduil wondered.

“Well…” Mennor began, making Thranduil even more curious, though slightly apprehensive at the same time.

“She wishes you to refer to her as _Dîs_ ,” his advisor explained.

“ _Dîs?_ ” Thranduil raised his eyebrows, very much aware that the elvish word meant _bride_.

“She has no given name?” the king again asked.

“She indicated that it is not important what her given name is. It is simply an honour that you are giving her the opportunity to be your bride,” Mennor stated, although he understood this was quite unconventional.

“And she is…” Thranduil stopped talking, not quite sure what it was he was going to ask his advisor. Mennor smiled.

“She is from a good family… a family who owe you quite the debt. They were never going to refuse you,” Mennor spoke.

“… you are making assumptions, Mennor… that was not my question,” Thranduil huffed, though deep down that was exactly what had been on his mind. Mennor lowered his gaze in embarrassment.

“I do apologise, my Lord,” Mennor almost whispered.

“Though you will be pleased to know, that she is unspoilt, of child-bearing potential and well-educated,” Mennor hoped that was what Thranduil really wanted to hear.

“I do not care whether she is of child-bearing potential, we will not consummate our marriage… this union will be a formality only in order to uphold the kingdom’s reputation,” the king explained. Truth of the matter was, he had no desire to seek intimacy with someone he barely knew. He would take care of her, as that was the responsibility he knew he would carry, but she would be able to do as she pleased.

“Very well, my Lord… do you wish to meet her… and her parents?” Mennor asked, hoping Thranduil’s curiosity would be triggered.

“I do,” Thranduil replied much to Mennor’s surprise. The advisor walked away, only to return with three people in his wake. Two were beaming, while the other was veiled, which made Thranduil raise his eyebrows yet again. As the two elder elves approached, they bowed ever so slightly, to convey their respects to their king.

“My Lord,” both spoke simultaneously.

“Brandir and Paddriel, my Lord,” Mennor introduced the two.

“And this is Dîs,” he said, as he ushered their daughter forward. She had lowered her head, unwilling to look Thranduil in the eyes, though as far as he could assess it, she was quite possibly observing him from underneath the semi-transparent fabric that was draped over her head. Thranduil noticed the long brown wavy strands of hair from beneath the veil. He observed her slender, though shapely form. He was unable to say whether she was beautiful or not, though her physique was quite appealing. Dîs bowed, careful not to let the veil slip away from her head. Thranduil nodded his head in response, as a show of respect. He had no desire to disrespect her in any way.

“We consider it an honour to our family, that you have decided to grant us the joy of marrying our daughter,” Brandir spoke. Thranduil lifted his hands.

“There is no need…” he wanted to say more, but he did not deem it fitting to speak so indifferently in the presence of his future wife.

Some superficial pleasantries were exchanged, but there was no depth in the dialogues. Dîs simply regarded the people present in the ante-chamber. She let her eyes wander around the room and found the interior appealing. The space felt warm and inviting, comfortable and pleasant. Soon she regarded Thranduil from beneath her disguise.

_Disguise!_ That was it! That was going to get her through this marriage. With it, she could quite possibly act just as she desired.

As the conversations ended, Mennor motioned their guests to remove themselves from the ante-chamber. As soon as the three of them stood outside, Brandir and Paddriel had already moved to walk away, while Dîs lingered, unintentionally overhearing Mennor and Thranduil talk.

“As I said before, Mennor… I have no need for her to fulfil her marital duties, nor do I feel obliged to fulfil mine. Keep her away from me, until such time that it is needed for her to be by my side. She can do as she pleases, she can have her own chambers. She will want for nothing, but I refuse to uphold a faux sense of happiness, simply to appease those who feel I have a statement to make,” his words sounding harsh. Dîs hung her head. A single tear rolled down her cheek. She had been quite taken with Thranduil’s outward appearance, but his indifference towards them becoming husband and wife, made her sad. Her previous thoughts ran through her head. _Disguise_ … that was how she would live through this and if the situation willed it, she would at one point be away with her veil altogether. Until that time, she saw an opportunity to perhaps lead a double life. She would make this work in her favour.

*** 

The palace seemed to be in an uproar, with the upcoming wedding. The palace inhabitants were busying themselves with all sorts of activities, to ensure the wedding ceremony would be a memorable one. Rumours were buzzing. Some felt that the marriage was nothing but a farce, as they understood quite well the reason why their king would marry a complete stranger like that. Others were overjoyed with the prospect of their king taking another wife. They were convinced it would do the king nothing but good.

Dîs had been destined to remain in her chambers while preparations were ongoing. She longed to go outside, but she knew it was improper for her to do so. Then she remembered her _disguise_. Could she chance it? She smiled and felt quite bold all of a sudden. She fingered the edges of the lacy fabric on her head and removed it. She took a deep breath following and smiled. That felt liberating. She slipped away from her chambers, careful not to be seen by anyone. As she walked through the vast hallways, she encountered a number of elves, but none seemed to pay any attention to her, though they all bowed to greet her regardless. They did not know her, nor did they know who she was to become in the very near future. She felt free and elated. This was the answer to her situation. By Thranduil’s side she would be _Dîs_ , while without her veil, she would be her herself: _Faerthurin_.

*** 

All preparations had been near completion, while Faer awaited assistance from her aide Narril to get her dressed and tend to her hair. Narril had wild ideas on Faer’s outward bridal appearance, but Faer would have none of it, as she knew that as soon as she put the veil onto her head, she would be Dîs and the king would be none the wiser. Narril had frowned, until Faer had opened up to her aide, confiding in her, telling her how she had intended to live through the wedding and her marriage with the king. Narril felt burdened, having been shared such a deep dark secret with, but her task was to tend to all of Faer’s needs. She was destined to be her queen after all. Surely, becoming queen of the Woodland Realm was every elleth’s dream, but Faer’s evident nerves quickly gave away that she was not at all at ease being married to a stranger, even though he was her king. Faer’s pleading eyes had Narril rapidly yield to the notion that she had intended to lead a double life. If indeed the king had no desire to consider their marriage more than a mere formality, then Narril would do everything in her power to ensure the king would never find out. However, she dreaded the day he would.

When Narril had finished Faer’s bridal attire, she looked at the bride-to-be with sadness. She wished for Faer to be able to lead a normal spousal life, one that would not include secrets, one that deserved an attentive husband, one that needed love and care. Faer took Narril’s hands into her own.

“If fate wills it, then all will be well and in time I will be able to abandon being whoever I’m not. The king will have to make the discovery for himself,” she spoke softly to her melancholic aide. Narril understood, but was concerned for the moment of revelation, of which she was convinced it would happen sooner or later.

“It is time to become Dîs. We cannot keep the king waiting,” she whispered to Narril softly, though a certain grief could be seen in the depths of her grey eyes. Narril wept deep within for the elleth she had already decided she cared for a lot. And while arranged marriages were not uncommon in Middle-Earth, no one should have to go through this, least of all against their will.

Narril lifted a beautifully decorated veil, that not only covered her head and face, but her long brown locks as well. She nodded towards the bride. Faer took a deep breath.

“You are beautiful… Dîs… any ellon should be lucky to have you,” Narril spoke truthfully. As Dîs stood, Narril accompanied her to the palace grounds where she knew the ceremony was to take place. She walked with a certain deliberation, though Narril could sense her being anxious and fidgety. 

As they reached the overgrown garden that had been decorated for the wedding proceedings, people turned and regarded her as though she was an anomaly in Middle-Earth. While most of the guests were silent, a few whispers could be heard from around the garden. Suddenly, Narril let her arm go and Dîs proceeded towards where she knew Thranduil would be waiting for her. She looked ahead and found the king standing a still as a statue, his back towards her. She regarded his beautiful waist long silver blond hair. Even as she approached him, his face remained stoic and unperturbed. He did not turn towards her, nor acknowledged her presence by his side. Dîs was glad none could see her facial expression, as it was filled with sadness. Her tears ran freely and for a brief moment she considered the awful situation she had landed herself in. She recognised Mennor and another ellon she had never met before. She concluded this was the elf who was to marry them. 

The ellon proceeded with a speech that seemed to last forever. Dîs heard little of it. From time to time she glanced up and sideways. She was in awe of the king’s strong profile, his impressive height and the enigma of his silver blue eyes. She could not deny that her soon-to-be husband was a beautiful elf to behold. She had never known. Would it really be so awful to be married to him? She concluded she would never find out, as Thranduil had quite clearly indicated he wanted nothing to do with her. She broke a little at the mere notion of it. 

She was still deep in thought as the proceedings ended. The ellon spoke his final words.

“As witnessed by all who are present here today, I give you the king and queen of Mirkwood, rulers of the Woodland Realm,” he ended. Her heart jumped as Thranduil finally turned to her. He lifted his hands up and for a brief moment Dîs was convinced that he was going to lift the veil up as well, but he didn’t. Instead he placed his hands tenderly on the sides of her face, making the lace cling to the skin of her face briefly, before he kissed the top of her head. The gesture was not completely void of emotion and Dîs felt a sense of confusion wash over her.

Thranduil lifted his arm for her to take and slowly they proceeded to leave their guests to themselves. The moment they were out of the guests’ sight, Thranduil had lowered his arm, which made Dîs’ arm slip away from him. She was slightly startled as the king walked away from her, along with Mennor. Where he was going, she knew not. Luckily Narril was with her shortly after, comforting her as she regarded the king’s indifference from a distance. The aide was convinced, more so than before, that it would indeed be best for Dîs to have as normal of a life as was possible, and if it meant it would require Dîs being Faer to make that happen, then she would do everything in her power to ensure exactly that.

Dîs retreated to her chambers along with Narril. The aide insisted she would get plenty of rest, as the evening festivities would again require her presence by her husband’s side later that day. Dîs pretended not to care, but deep down she admitted to herself that she longed to see Thranduil again.

*** 

Though no words were exchanged between husband and wife, as they sat side by side, pleasantries were exchanged aplenty by many of the guests present, as congratulatory comments were passed on from time to time. Both Thranduil as well as Dîs nodded politely, barely saying anything, although when the situation required it, it was Thranduil who spoke on both their behalf. Dîs listened to him speak and felt attracted to his deep velvet voice and how eloquently he conveyed his gratitude to those who congratulated them both. As the evening progressed, she started to feel a certain pull to her husband, though she knew she would never be able to act on it. She decided she had to simply accept her situation, though she found it increasingly more difficult as time elapsed. 

Slowly guests had started to leave the festivities, to which Thranduil responded by suddenly standing. He gazed upon his new wife and while no words were spoken, she also stood. He guided her away from the area, where until recently they had been sitting. In a dilatory fashion, he walked towards their private chambers. Dîs swallowed hard. What was he doing? Then she realised he was simply seeing her to her private domain safely. It was the first time they had spent time alone, just the two of them. For a moment Thranduil beheld his bride, eyeing the fabric that covered her head, as though he was trying to will his sight beyond the semi-transparent lace that kept her face from his view. She trembled slightly, which did not go unnoticed by the king.

He carefully placed on hand on her upper arm and lowered his head to gently place another kiss on her head.

“Sleep well, my queen,” he whispered, before turning, leaving her to her thoughts. Dîs watched as he increased the distance between them. For the first time she regretted the king not wanting anything to do with her, let alone consummate their marriage. 

***


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

“Good morning, Faerthurin,” came a cheerful voice. Faer had instantly recognised it as Narril’s, as the aide immediately busied herself to ensure her queen would be bathed and dressed.

“I am here to get you ready for the day. What would you like to do today? Mirkwood is at your feet,” she tried to cheer up her queen. Faer ran her fingers through her long hair, yawning inelegantly.

“I’m not sure… what is it a queen does?” she genuinely wondered, realising she had no royal upbringing or preparation of any kind.

“Well, King Thranduil has already indicated that you are exempt from any royal duties, unless it is required that you accompany him to a formal event or something of that ilk,” Narril explained.  
“But… if you don’t mind me inquiring… why are you so concerned about being Dîs?” Narril asked, her tone somewhat confused.

“Would you not prefer to be Faer today or in the days to come, until it is required for Dîs to make an appearance?” she wondered, a somewhat mischievous grin on her face. Faer’s eyes lit up like the stars in the night sky. 

“In that case… I would like to be trained like a soldier,” she exclaimed, knowing quite well that the Woodland Realm had one of the finest training facilities in Middle-Earth. The mere notion made Narril gasp loudly. While it was not uncommon for an elleth to become a soldier in Thranduil’s army, she didn’t deem it fitting for the queen to be one. Narril’s questionable expression told her the aide did not approve and conveyed her thoughts without uttering a single word.

“Ah… but today… I’m not the queen, I will start to learn how to become a soldier,” she grinned in response to Narril’s disapproving gasp.

“Did the king not express his desire for me to do as I please?” she quickly added.

“Well yes… but…” Narril knew there was no point in arguing, as she had no arguments to back her view on the matter. 

“I will enrol as a soldier in Mirkwood’s infantry… or perhaps cavalry…” she said, making Narril gasp again.

“Surely you are jesting, my Lady,” she interrupted Faer’s monologue. 

“…will you make inquiries where I need to go in order for me to become a soldier… please?” she pleaded, making Narril yield after only a brief moment.

“Very well… in the meantime, I have prepared a bath for you and laid out some clothes… although now I’m not so sure those garments will be suited for what you have planned today,” she frowned.

“Thank you, Narril,” Faer jumped up and wrapped her arms around her aide’s shoulders. Narril simply smiled. She had already grown very fond of her new queen.

*** 

Faer’s training was exhausting. She was desperately trying to keep up with the more experienced and evidently stronger ellons who were training alongside of her. She was by no means a novice, but she admitted to herself that she still had a lot to learn. As a female, she stood out from the group she was training with. There were a few other elleths present, but as their skills were much more advanced than hers, she was hardly able to distinguish them from the males present. Faer was, however, not dissuaded from her goal. If she was unable to make herself useful as a queen, she would make sure to re-purpose herself as a soldier in Mirkwood’s army.

*** 

Faer had not seen or heard from Thranduil for many days. He had not visited or reached out to her at all, which made her wonder once more what strange marriage she had actually agreed on being a part of, although she had little say in the decision that was made. In order not to dwell on whether or not she had a marriage worth having, she kept at her training diligently. Her skills improved swiftly and only a few moons had passed, when she started to outrank most of Mirkwood’s army’s soldiers. The soldiers were sceptical at first, as they observed the relatively inexperienced elleth as part of their training sessions, but as time went by, Faer quickly earned the awe and respect she knew were rightfully hers to obtain. 

She was fully immersed in a sparring session with a male elf, who had his mind set on putting the elleth in her rightful place, as she was but a _mere_ woman. Faer’s focus was unparalleled and because of it she never noticed Thranduil entering the training grounds to observe how his army was faring. Several soldiers bowed lightly to pay their respects, save for those who watched Faer and the ellon spar as though they were mortal enemies. 

Faer took a few beatings from the staff her opponent was wielding, but they were only small sacrifices to make and did not in any way affect her plan to show him who was the better of the two. Thranduil appeared to be intrigued by how the elleth was taking on an ellon who was not only much bigger, but quite clearly considerably stronger as well.

A few agile movements on Faer’s part, made the ellon lose his staff, making him weaponless. His eyes grew wide, but a hint of determination resided in his eyes. He was not yet ready to give up.

“Very well,” Faer smirked at him, discarding her own staff to even the odds. Thranduil raised his eyebrows, wondering how the much lighter elleth would take on the opponent, who was twice her size. 

The two circled the sandy surface, focused on the tiniest of movements that would allow either of them to spot a weakness in their temporary nemesis. Neither seemed to have one, or so the ellon thought.

With tremendous speed, Faer managed to confuse her opponent and within the blink of an eye, she had managed to throw him to the dusty ground and had him in a leg lock, rendering him unable to move.

“Do you yield?” she asked her opponent. The ellon felt his pride eb away, but ultimately conceded. 

“Yes,” he raised his voice angrily, before Faer let him go. He eyed her disdainfully before turning, hiding his embarrassment as he disappeared among the other soldiers present. Faer wiped the dust from her tunic and picked up her staff, making room for others to spar, where she had just defeated one of the most respected soldiers in Thranduil’s army. Most soldiers smiled as she approached them, where well-deserved pats on her shoulders were given out of respect.

As the training session ended and the group dispersed, Thranduil remained behind. He felt a strong desire to have a word with the female soldier, who had quite clearly captured his attention. She had her back towards him, clearing some of the training gear that had been left behind. As the king approached, he cleared his throat in order to get her attention. She smiled, thinking it was the ellon she had just defeated in their melee sparring session. As she turned, she stared into Thranduil’s silver blue eyes and shock instantly adorned her pretty face.

“Good afternoon… you have… skills,” he stated without seemingly conveying any emotion whatsoever, though a light twinkle was present in his eyes.

Faer was at a loss of what to say for a moment, as she stared at her husband and felt gratitude seemed the only proper response.

“Thank you…” she paused. “… my Lord,” she quickly added. Thranduil regarded her suspiciously for a brief moment.

“What is your name?” her king demanded to know.

“It is Faerthurin, my Lord,” she answered truthfully. 

“And how long have you been a soldier in my army?” he wondered.

“Not long, my Lord. I decided to join ranks shortly after you were wed,” she again spoke the truth.

“Yet you have just managed to defeat my best soldier in hand-to-hand combat,” he grinned with an amused tone. 

“If you say so…” she paused once more. “… my Lord,” she again added hastily.

“If I say so _what?_ ” Thranduil sounded confused.

“That he is your best soldier,” she stated boldly. One corner of Thranduil’s mouth curled upwards.

“So… you believe you are able to defeat the best fighter in the palace?” Thranduil asked.

“I believe I just did,” came her all-too-quick response. Thranduil merely nodded and turned, taking his leave. Faer was confused as she watched her husband walk away from her. Did he genuinely not recognise her? She thought about it for a moment. Why would he? He had never properly looked at her… at all.

*** 

“Faer… Faer!” Narril’s voice called. There was no response.

“Dîs!” the handmaiden called again.

“In here, Narril,” she finally responded, surprising the aide that the elleth had chosen to respond to her married name, rather than her given name. Narril found Faer bathing, washing away the filth she had collected during her combat training.

“We have guests tonight. You are requested to be by your husband’s side, my dear,” Narril explained, a certain urgency in her voice. Apprehension captured Faer’s heart.

“You will be fine, but you will need to hurry. The king will be here shortly and…” Narril had stopped talking, but Faer understood. She could not be seen as Faerthurin. She had to become Dîs again.

With Narril’s help, she prepared, as she covered herself in a dark blue velvet gown, topped off with a veil that did not cover her full head, but rather the bottom half of her face casually, while a silver circlet pressed down her otherwise braided hair. Her outward appearance could be perceived as someone who upheld a certain propriety, as her face was only the king’s to enjoy. She glanced at herself in the mirror, Narril joined the reflection as she wondered if her husband would be able to recognise her from her eyes only. She doubted he would, as he had not shown any interest in her as a wife, from the moment the wedding proceedings had concluded. 

A loud knock on the door caught both their attention and as soon as Narril had opened the door, Thranduil stepped inside the chamber with firm paces. He looked for his wife, his eyes scanning the room. Dîs looked startled, as her eyes landed on the tunic she had worn earlier during her training session. She had discarded it messily on the floor by the bed. Narril noticed and hurried herself towards the garments, inconspicuously pushing the clothes under the bed with her foot. 

“Dear Dîs… wife of mine… are you ready to accompany me?” he asked kindly, though not without a very slight hint of dominance, that conveyed that she in fact belonged to him now and she should in fact behave as the realm’s queen, who had certain obligations. She nodded and softly whispered _yes_.

The guests they were entertaining were pleasant and kind, but above all scrutinising Thranduil’s new wife. They had been eager to meet her and now that the king was finally able to introduce her to them, she felt nervous.

“My dearest Thranduil, your wife is lovely, I must say… I hope the two of you will be very happy together,” one of the guests remarked. Thranduil smiled politely and concluded that a loving glance to his new wife was essential. He turned to face Dîs and for a moment longer than he had intended, his eyes locked with hers. He frowned slightly as a certain familiarity struck him. Dîs quickly looked away, as she noticed her husband’s expression of wonder.

The rest of the evening progressed uneventfully, though Thranduil got the distinct impression Dîs was deliberately averting her gaze, every time he looked at her. 

After some time, Dîs excused herself and accompanied by Narril, she exited the large hall, where the kingdom’s guests had become increasingly loud due to the consumption of large amounts of Dorwinion wine. Narril quickly whispered to Thranduil that his queen did not quite feel well and he dismissed them both with a curt wave of his hand. As they took their leave, he glanced at Dîs walking away from him, gently swaying her curves, making him narrow his eyes, though his thoughts he kept to himself.

*** 

Days and cycles elapsed. Thranduil had become a frequent visitor to the barracks, eager to lay eyes on Faerthurin. The more he watched her, the more he concluded that she was no mere soldier in his army. She was a fierce warrior and he was in fact lucky to have her… in his army. For a moment Thranduil pressed his eyes shut tightly. His thoughts had been impure for the briefest of moments and he swallowed hard. He had no business thinking of anyone like that. He was wed after all.

Faer had noticed Thranduil observing her. She was in fact quite amused by the notion of having captured his attention. If not as his wife, then at least as her alter ego. She too became more drawn to him and silently hoped that Thranduil would break his pattern of never visiting his wife in her chambers. He never did though and her heart chipped a little each time she allowed herself a glimmer of hope. It seemed Thranduil had decided that their marriage was indeed no more than a convenience, an alliance between ellon and elleth in order to uphold appearances. She hated that part of her life, as she wanted more for her and Thranduil, but she knew it was not likely to ever be. 

The other part of her life gave her a chance to grow and develop as a strong and respected elleth. It was that part that pleased her tremendously, as she was in essence free to do as she pleased, until it was time again to reside by her husband’s side. 

While the other soldiers had come to respect Faer, they had also recognised her having become cocky, as she knew quite well that it was not likely anyone could defeat her while sparring. Some got quite close, but that simply allowed her to grow as a warrior. It reminded her to always be on her guard. There was not much that could distract her, when someone engaged in a melee sparring session with her.

*** 

One particular morning, her gut told her the day had something different in store for her. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it and lifted her shoulders briefly, convincing herself that she had to let go of that very notion. 

As she entered the training grounds, she heard hushed whispers around her. Some of the others had stopped their melee exercises. She looked around her and suddenly turned, as she heard someone approach her from behind. She saw none other than Thranduil walk towards her. He was not wearing one of his usual tunics or robes, he was in fact dressed in training attire, which resembled the tunic she was wearing herself. She swallowed in a way she hoped would go unnoticed by anyone present, especially her husband. Thranduil looked different. Not necessarily regal, though still very intimidating. For the first time she was able to assess what a fine and tall physique he was always hiding beneath his excessive clothing. His shoulders were broad and strong arms had come into view, as he had rolled up the sleeves of the tunic to past his elbows. Beneath, she found his long legs going on forever, and she was mesmerised by the strong thighs that were snugly wrapped into tight leggings. She concluded such thighs had been brought on so by the numerous times he had ridden his elk. His hair flowed elegantly, as he had dispensed with the usual circlet or crown on top of his head. 

Faer suddenly realised that her lips had parted and that she had stared at her husband a tad longer than she had wanted to. She let out a small cough to interrupt her stare as well as her train of thought. Thranduil was the first to speak.

“I thought perhaps today you might appreciate a challenge,” he said. Faer noticed a certain displeasing tone in his voice. She wasn’t wrong. Thranduil had in fact noticed the same hint of arrogance in her posture in the days prior and was determined to be away with it. She was a fine warrior, but he had no room for her cocky demeanour in his army. She would serve him best to have both her feet firmly on the ground, rather than having her wins over the others go to her head. Thranduil wasn’t entirely certain he was her match, but if anyone stood a chance against her, it would be him.

“Very well,” Faer responded, her voice already hinting towards the cockiness Thranduil was eager to be rid of.

“Choice of weapon?” she asked him, as she walked to the weapons rack.

“You choose,” Thranduil answered, knowing quite well that she would choose her staff over any sharp blade. She managed to surprise him, as she lifted two swords from the rack and handed one to her husband. Faer could tell he was surprised, of which she concluded she was already one step ahead of him. Thranduil was no fool and while he had been surprised by her choice of weapon, Faer would be in for a surprise of her own.

Gasps could be heard from the others, who remained safely at the edges of the training grounds. Some had known the king for a long time, from the time when he was still a prince. They knew that the king had yet to find his match in a sword fight. Clearly no one had informed Faer of the same.

At first they both circled one another, their boots becoming dustier with every step. Neither approached the other, until Faer made the first move. It was simple and under normal circumstances her lunge would have been quite effective. She quickly learned that Thranduil was no novice when it came to wielding a sword. 

Before long the sounds of metal to metal could be heard. The on-lookers who were familiar with Thranduil’s melee skills, had already seen that their king was not giving his everything, but he let on to Faer that she had him under control, when in fact she hadn’t. The sparring went on for a good while. Some sniggered silently as they had noticed how the king was toying with her. Faer in the meantime was tiring fast. She was no match for her husband’s stamina. As the mere thought of _stamina_ crossed her mind, her guard was temporarily down and while Thranduil had no intention of hurting his best warrior, he had unsuspectingly lowered his sword in a way that it had cut across the top side of her wrist with a subtle and fluid movement. It had been a long time since Faer had sustained any injuries during practice sessions and in surprise she fell to her knees, dropping her sword, clutching the wrist with the fingers of her opposing hand. Blood was seeping through them and before long her fingers were dark red. Thranduil had gasped. She was injured. That is not what he wanted. It was then that he noticed she had not bothered with her usual protective leather bracelets. Had she worn them, she would not have been cut. Thranduil cursed under his breath. Damn her arrogance.

Anger was written on her face as she stared up at Thranduil. She quickly got up and lifted the sword with her non-dominant hand. She was furious and her actions were full of emotion. She was even less successful in being in control of the fight at hand, than before.

“You need to have that looked at,” Thranduil insisted, while still on his guard, as Faer had clearly indicated she was not yet done.

“We. Will. Finish,” her voice sounding full of wrath. Thranduil realised he had to be careful, as she had become unpredictable and stood an even bigger chance of becoming hurt.

“Very well,” Thranduil replied in anger. He no longer held back and within the blink of an eye, he had managed to knock her back, her sword flew through the air and landed close to those who were observing the fight. Faer had landed on her back with a thud, followed by dust being lifted around her. Thranduil was on her immediately after, straddling her, settling his weight on her thighs, while pinning her lower arms down onto the ground.

“The fight is mine,” he stated, wanting Faer to concede.

Faer became livid, writhing her body beneath her husband’s. Thranduil gazed at the anger on her face. Was she really angry, or was it just her pride that had been affected?

“Stop that… do you yield?” he asked impatiently. Faer did not immediately answer, but knew she had no other choice than to admit Thranduil to be the superior warrior.

“Yes!”

Thranduil let her go and quickly stood, lifting Faer with him.

“ _That_ … needs attention,” he insisted again, before turning to walk away. There were no cheers around the training grounds. This had been no ordinary fight, it had been a message.

*** 

Faerthurin had retreated to her chambers in a huff, careful not to be seen entering the private domain of the king’s wife. Narril was there, busying herself with chores. She gasped when Faer entered. She had become pale and the blood on her arm and tunic had her aide worried. 

“What has happened, my dear,” she wondered in concern, as she pushed the fabric of the cut tunic away.

“My loving husband,” was all Faer could muster, gritting her teeth. 

“Surely you are jesting, dear,” Narril expressed her thoughts, finding it difficult to believe the king would intentionally hurt anyone, unless she were an enemy of the kingdom.

“We were sparring… and then _this_ ,” Faer shot angrily.

“You sparred with the king?” Narril exasperated. “Why?”

“Apparently he thought I needed to be taught a lesson… or something,” Faer quickly added, knowing quite well what Thranduil’s mission had been. She was angry with him, but deep down she also understood.

“Have a quick bath… I will tend to your injury when you are done… then we get you ready…” Narril stopped talking. Faer looked up at her.

“More guests?” she wondered, to which Narril simply nodded. Faer felt nauseous. She had no desire to entertain anyone. She had been injured and her pride had been hurt. She really wanted to be left alone, but she knew this would not be an option. She had obligations. And while Thranduil left her to do her own bidding most of the times, entertaining guests was a rare occasion. She had to be by her husband’s side yet again.

As she bathed, she tried to relax her mind. Images of Thranduil’s unparalleled focus during their sparring session, did not leave her unstirred. And while her husband had defeated her, she had to admit that she had never felt more drawn to him. She felt a tingle between her legs that she was not entirely unfamiliar with, though she had no clue as to what it meant. She felt nausea rise in her stomach and she breathed hard to let it subside. It was clear that she would not have much of an appetite. And so it just had to be.

Narril had dressed the injury on her wrist carefully. The long sleeves that covered as much as even part of the back of her hand, carefully obscured the dressing from view. No one would know. Her aide had carefully draped another semi-transparent veil over her head and covered half of her face with a delicate piece of decorated fabric. The colour of the veil made her grey eyes stand out. It was one of her most attractive features according to Narril, who started to feel concern for the notion that her king would at one point make the same assessment and in the process recognise her not as Dîs, but rather as Faerthurin. 

Faer had positioned herself in the doorway, awaiting Thranduil to pick her up and guide her to the great hall to meet their guests. She was deep in thought, when a deep mesmerising voice penetrated her very soul.

“You seem far away, lovely wife of mine,” he stated, trying to convey affection, of which she knew he had no reason to give it. Yet she was charmed by the very words. 

“I have things on my mind,” she almost whispered. 

“Would you like to share them with me as we walk to the great hall?” Thranduil asked, making an effort in getting to know his wife better. 

Thranduil positioned himself to her right, raising his lower left arm, waiting for her to place her right arm on his. She felt a surge of electricity run through her as they touched. She lightly gasped, making her husband wonder whether anything was wrong.

“Are you alright, Dîs?” he felt a genuine concern for her. While had never grown affectionate towards her, he wished her nothing ill.

“I was just wondering how my parents are faring,” she lied to obscure her true feelings.

“I can send for them, so they are able to see how you are getting on here,” Thranduil offered. The suggestion startled Dîs. Her parents were not aware of her deceit. 

“There is no need, _my Lord_ ,” she responded quickly, though politely. Thranduil suddenly stopped as he looked at her, taking in her gaze.

“We are husband and wife… I would prefer it if you were to call me by my given name… though our marriage may not be… _conventional_ … I would at least like to offer you that,” Thranduil spoke kindly. Dîs nodded and slowly motioned for Thranduil to start walking again. 

As they entered the great hall, some of the guests immediately approached the royal couple, engaging in some mandatory, though surprisingly pleasant conversation. Thranduil seemed pleased about that. He did not care for the stiff demeanour that sometimes came with being king. In a way, his relaxed composure seemed to seep into the way he guided Dîs around the room, as they mingled. It was a side to her husband, Dîs had not yet experienced, though she liked it. 

Suddenly a familiar face appeared in Thranduil’s view, which made his otherwise stern features light up like the sun.

“ _Mithrandir, Mae g’ovannen, mellon nîn!_ ” her husband spoke with warmth as the wizard approached them. A friendly embrace sealed their greeting. Some pleasantries were exchanged, before Thranduil realised he had yet to introduce his new wife to the wizard.

“Apologies, Mithrandir, may I please introduce you to my lovely wife… Dîs!” he spoke elegantly.

The wizard looked Dîs up and down and uttered one single word.

“Indeed,” he merely said, removing his hat and lowering his head for a moment to convey his respect to the Queen of the Woodland Realm. 

“And how is regal life treating you, dearest?” the wizard asked in a very direct fashion. 

“It is… fine,” was all Dîs could say. Mithrandir waited for her to speak more, but she didn’t and the lack of conversation made him squint his yes. Dîs swallowed hard.

“And you… my friend… is married life treating you well? I daresay you waited long enough to be wed again,” he winked. Thranduil did not respond to the wink, but remained stoic. He had no reason to respond to the wizard’s wink… there was nothing in his marriage that should make him respond other than being polite out of respect for his wife.

“It is, Mithrandir,” he finally said, as he affectionately put his hand on top of Dîs’ right wrist, as her hand still resided on his left arm. As he did, Dîs let out a shriek of distress. It was subtle, but could hardly be mistaken for something other than alarm, or even pain.

Dîs had instantly retracted her arm from Thranduil’s and cradled her wrist against her chest. The touch had been painful and she cursed him under her breath, how he had been responsible for that.

“Are you alright, my dear?” the wizard wondered. Even Thranduil seemed startled, as it was clear that she was experiencing pain or something of the kind. He lowered himself, bringing his face closer to hers, as he gently took her right arm into his hands. He gently tugged at the fabric of her gown, but she pulled her arm away from his grip.

“It is nothing,” she hissed in an alarmed tone. “I got too close to a candle earlier,” she quickly added. Narril appeared out of nowhere, as though she had regarded the situation from a small distance, ready to intervene if needed.

“Shall I guide the queen back to her chambers, my Lord?” she quickly asked, not really allowing Thranduil to respond. Narril was already ushering Dîs away, before he could nod. He stared at the two elleths as they were again distancing themselves from him. Mithrandir observed the king’s expression.

“Are you alright, _mellon nîn?_ ” the wizard kindly asked. Thranduil didn’t immediately answer the question, though ultimately responded.

“I cannot be certain,” he answered truthfully.

***


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The following morning, as per routine, Faer got dressed with Narril’s help. Through her wrist still hurt, she did not think it should keep her from her duties. Several days prior, she had been tasked with a surveillance assignment, that would allow her to go outside of the palace. She was looking forward to it tremendously.

As she prepared for departure in the large courtyard, along with several of the others she had been training with, she noticed Thranduil walk towards the party with long strides.

“Faerthurin,” he insisted on having her attention.

“I cannot let you go on surveillance. I need full focus from my soldiers and your focus is elsewhere right now,” he assumed on her behalf. He wasn’t wrong.

“But…” Faer started, but was at a loss for words. She did not want to go antagonise him.

“Naegron will go in your stead,” he beckoned a black-haired elf to take Faer’s horse. Faer reluctantly let go of the reins and huffed. She was displeased, which made Thranduil chuckle lightly, though he ensured she wouldn’t see it.

“I am tasking you with something else… something of great importance, though considerably less dangerous,” the king explained.

“Because I cannot handle danger…?” she shot at him angrily. “… _my Lord_ ,” she again hastily added. Thranduil softened his tone. 

“It is not that I think you cannot handle the danger, but you are injured, for which I offer you my sincerest apology. Please follow me,” he continued to move away from her, ensuring she would be right behind him.

Faer was unfamiliar with quite a number of parts of the castle and she knew not where Thranduil was taking her. A large building loomed up in front of her. The building looked like stables, but she knew they weren’t. She was confused and frowned as her husband beckoned her to go inside.

Before long, he guided her to the main space within the building’s walls and Faer’s jaw dropped as she set her eyes on feathers and down that floated around her. She noticed a number of elves busying themselves with trying to control the feathers, while the geese around them were generating a deafening cacophony. Clearly the elves knew what they were doing, but couldn’t avoid feathers and down from being everywhere. Faer was puzzled. Why was she there?

“Can I trust you to ensure this building remains safe?” Thranduil asked her, attempting to be away with her confusion.

“There have been attacks by orcs in the past, seeing the building is so close to the palace walls… the orcs steal the geese for consumption,” he explained.

“You will find that this task is slightly less strenuous than border surveillance and when you are fully healed again, you can re-join the others… though for now… your assignment is here,” Thranduil insisted.

Faer did not know how to respond. A jolt rushed through her body as Thranduil reached for her elbow and beckoned her to sit on a small bench close to the entrance of the large room. Without saying a word he proceeded to lift the sleeve he knew covered the cut he had inflicted on her the day before.

Thranduil frowned as he regarded the raw flesh.

“This seems slightly inflamed,” he spoke with a lump in his throat, as guilt washed over him. He had never actually wanted to hurt her and truth be told, he felt awful about it. Faerthurin was the last person he had wanted to hurt, physically or otherwise.

“I will be fine,” Faer spoke nervously, wanting to pull her arm away from her husband’s touch, but he wouldn’t let her. Instead with the palm of his hand, he covered the injury. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, before removing his hand again. The injury was still there, but it did not nearly look as raw as before.

“That should help,” he spoke softly as he looked into her grey eyes. Faer gazed back, being completely drawn to his silver blue eyes, but quickly averted her own. If her husband had any way of recognising her to be his wife, her eyes would do just that. Strangely enough, it wasn’t necessarily fear that gripped her. Her stomach somersaulted and she could feel herself blush and though she could not see it, Thranduil was in fact smirking at her involuntary response. 

Suddenly he stood, making Faer wonder what he would do next. He didn’t do anything, except walk away.

“You can report to me later,” he called to her, without turning. And suddenly he was gone.

*** 

As the day was ending, Faer became increasingly more covered with the fine down that whirled up and down the interior of the geese farm. On numerous occasions did she have to sneeze and she was about ready to leave the space she had been in all day. As the night shift settled at the farm, the elves present signed off for the day and along with Faer moved towards the palace.

Before turning into the hallway that led to her chambers, she was cut off by one of Thranduil’s personal guards.

“The king insists on having your report before dinner,” he conveyed the message calmly. Faer was not in the mood to see her husband, but if she was to uphold her disguise, she knew she had to obey him. She was tired and in dire need of bathing. She dragged her feet to where she knew her husband had his private domain. Nerves started to manifest themselves and Faer found it difficult to hide them.

“Enter,” came a deep booming voice, after she had knocked on the king’s chambers’ door.

She slowly entered, leaving a trail of feathers and down in her wake. As Thranduil approached, he couldn’t contain himself from sniggering, as he laid eyes on his best warrior. 

“I do believe you are entertained,” Faer huffed softly.

“Indeed I am… but your work is much appreciated,” he indicated sincerely.

For a moment they just stood opposite of one another, staring at each other, not saying a single word. Faer was uncertain what to do next.

“Well…” Thranduil began.

“How is my geese farm faring today?” he wondered, making Faer realise that she was summoned to report on the day’s events. 

“Nothing to report, my Lord,” she answered truthfully.

“Is that so,” Thranduil said, again not hiding his amusement. Faer squinted, wondering whether her assignment had been one of punishment.

“And your injury?” Thranduil asked kindly. He was genuinely concerned for her well-being. He did not await her response and approached her with long strides. He took her arm into his hands and lifted the fabric of the sleeve up, removing the thin bandages that were put there earlier in the day.

Faer felt uncomfortable at her husband’s touch, yet her insides screamed for more than just a touch of concern. She felt drawn to him and wanted nothing more for him to get even closer.

“This is looking well,” he said quietly, as he examined the cut. He imagined it to still hurt, but at least it wasn’t inflamed or infected. 

“Keep an eye on it… if it’s getting worse, you come to me or visit the healers,” he said, as he again stared at her elegant face. Thranduil felt familiar with her facial features, but wasn’t certain where he had met Faer before, if at all. 

As Thranduil was still holding her arm, Faer became slightly agitated. She desired for him to let her go, afraid that her game of deceit might be up if he didn’t. She turned her upper body slightly in order not to fully face him.

“Are you alright?” her husband asked, wondering why she was determined to part from his touch.

“I…” she failed to complete her sentence and felt obligated to look at him again out of respect. As she turned to face his gaze, the situation took an unexpected turn of events. Almost immediately after she had decided to raise her eyes up at him, did she feel his lips on hers. She was taken aback at first, but did not object. Thranduil felt somewhat confident to further exercise pressure to Faer’s mouth. There was a certain restraint to his actions, making Faer wonder what was on his mind. Suddenly she realised what had to be on his mind. He was in fact being unfaithful to his wife. Only Faer knew that he wasn’t, but as far as Thranduil was concerned, he was. 

Faer closed her eyes, trying to handle the numerous sensations that seemed to race through her body. His lips felt so good against hers, that she hoped he would lay his hands on her. Instead, Thranduil let go quite abruptly.

“I’m sorry… I shouldn’t… I’m…” Thranduil whispered.

“… married,” Faer finished his sentence for him.

“I think it is best if I leave,” she indicated, as she felt a certain conflict deep within. She wanted Thranduil to ravish her again, yet she was upset that he had so easily discarded their bond of marriage.

“It’s just that… I’m… you…” again he didn’t finish his sentence. What was he trying to tell her?   
Suddenly Thranduil felt that being angry with her was the only way to handle his feelings towards the warrior, he had instantly been drawn to from the very start. 

“Leave me,” he raised his voice, turning his back towards her. Faer became angry in response. It had been Thranduil who had approached _her_ , shown affection towards _her_ , yet as far as he knew, he was doing so without his wife being aware of his evident adultery. He had no reason to be upset with her, instead she had every reason to be upset with _him_. She supposed that being king, entitled him to do whatever he pleased and it hurt her deeply. She had thought he was better than that, but he was no different than others. Moreover, she was upset that he had never shown his wife the same affection. _His wife!_

“Clearly I have done something wrong… I will take my leave now,” she answered without showing any emotion, though deep down she screamed at her conflict. 

She exited the ante-chamber by slamming the door shut behind her. She felt betrayed. He was ready to be unfaithful to his wife, _with_ his wife. However he didn’t know that. She had got herself into a right mess and she cried as she hurried towards her own chambers. 

*** 

Narril had been concerned for Faer. She had entered her sleeping quarters in tears, though had said absolutely nothing. It wasn’t until Narril had finally managed for her to spill her beans, persuading her queen to tell her everything. Faer was beyond consoling and Narril’s heart broke for her. The game could go either way. Either Faerthurin would finally be able to come clean and Thranduil could admit to his feelings for her, or… she dared not think of a scenario that was quite possibly more realistic than the first. With all her might, Narril thought of a way on how she could assist, but she had no solutions to offer.

*** 

The following morning, Faer felt exhausted. There was physically nothing wrong with her, save for the cut on her wrist, but she felt emotionally drained. She dragged herself to the geese farm, only to take up the position of guard, as she had done the day before.

The day went by slowly and all she wanted was to be left alone and wash away the down and dust from her hair and body. She had felt a certain melancholy throughout the day and had no way of ridding herself from that feeling. She longed for her husband, but felt a certain hate for the king who had in essence betrayed her. She thought of her own betrayal, making Thranduil believe Faer was a mere warrior in his army, when she was in fact Dîs, his wife. Was she really any better than he was? The only difference was that she knew all the facts, when her husband had thus far been left in the dark.

The geese farmers had left early, due to family obligations, but the night shift had yet to relieve Faer from her duties. The feathers and down were slowly calming and were lazily floating through the air in an attempt to finally settle on the ground. She looked at it, making her realise that it resembled snow. For a moment she smiled. She had forgotten how to as the day had progressed. 

She strolled among the geese, who had appeared to have calmed, now that they were no longer being plucked for their precious coat. Some had even settled on the ground, as though they were ready to sleep. 

She passed some of the compartments where sacks of down and feathers had been stored carefully. If handled too roughly, she knew that the down would be around her everywhere once more. She pressed her hand gently on one of the sacks, feeling the softness of it beneath her touch.

Suddenly she heard rustling behind her. She pretended not to hear, but gripped her staff in a way that made her ready for a possible attack. She turned, fortifying her stance, half expecting an orc to lunge at her. Instead she met with the silver blue fire in Thranduil’s eyes, who expertly knocked the staff from her hands, leaving her at his mercy. Her nostrils flared with anger and she was about to give him an earful, though she never got the opportunity. 

Thranduil had dropped his own staff to the ground and roughly pulled her towards him. Faer gasped as she lost her balance. She could feel herself falling and she was taking the king with her. They landed on top of the sacks of down, which immediately had the tiny soft feathers flying through the air around them. Faer felt like laughing, but Thranduil’s expression was earnest. He captured her mouth roughly, to which Faer responded instantly. Hands wandered, all equally in need of finding a certain satisfaction. She felt her husband’s tongue delve deeply into her mouth, eager to taste her. She reciprocated wilfully, letting him know that she wanted the same. Feathers were all around them, as they rolled around the sacks that had burst open by their fall. She noticed the white fluff in his hair, and then found she had as much of the same in hers.

As Thranduil dove towards her neck, sucking the pale skin fervently, she gasped at the sensation. She knew quite well that he wanted more than this. She was conflicted, wondering if she should let him. Those very thoughts had quickly evaporated as a familiar tingling sensation manifested itself between her legs. She had never wanted to be intimate with someone so badly, but her inexperienced self, made her apprehensive and concerned. 

She felt Thranduil lift her tunic, only to push his hands beneath the fabric of her leggings. His fingers were long and skilled and within moments she was squirming at his touch. She didn’t know how to respond. She wanted to provide him equal pleasure, but knew not what to do. Thranduil lifted himself, wondering what was on her mind and why she dared not touch him in the same way he was touching her. It dawned upon him that perhaps the geese farm was not the place to be intimate with anyone.

“Not here,” he panted, as he stood abruptly, lifting Faer along with him. He grabbed hold of her hand and swiftly guided them both in the direction of the palace. Faer had failed to recall how they managed to get to the king’s chambers so quickly, but as they entered the king’s domain, she concluded that it mattered not. 

Thranduil lifted her up into his arms and languidly walked in the direction of the large bed. He dropped her on it, making feathers fly up around them yet again. He tugged at his clothing, until only his leggings remained. He hid nothing beneath the snug fabric, making Faer’s eyes grow large with fear. 

“Your turn,” he said, his breathing laboured, while she observed the rise and fall of his abdominal section.

Faer simply stared at him, until she started to undo her tunic, her leggings, discarding them to the ground beside the bed. She was trembling, which was not something that was missed by Thranduil.

“Do you not want this?” he wondered apprehensively. 

“I do… but…” she started.

“… I am married… I… know,” he looked down at the sheets, evident guilt in his posture. Faer was surprised. Clearly he did not think too lightly of adultery.

“…no… I’m inexperienced,” she whispered softly with embarrassment. She spoke so softly in fact that Thranduil was almost unable to hear her and for a moment he thought he had misheard her.

His mouth opened in shock and he slowly sat back on his heals. He ran his fingers through his hair, in doubt whether to proceed or not.

“I have not felt drawn to anyone like this for a long time… but now I am in doubt on what to do…” he sighed.

“Then we are in trouble, because I’m certainly not able to help you…” she whispered, realising that her chance of intimacy had just gone up in smoke.

“I just… can’t resist you,” Thranduil finally remarked and with that he was on her again, gently letting his fingers brush her naked body. She did not object, letting him know she craved for his intimacy as well. Her breathing had accelerated with the prospect of being intimate with her husband, whom she had subconsciously learned to love, and the notion of Thranduil being her first. She was scared.

Faer was so preoccupied with her own emotions, that she failed to notice how Thranduil had removed his leggings. It wasn’t until she felt his bare hardness against her thigh, that she knew they were both naked. They passionately kissed, while Thranduil’s hands squeezed her breasts, her hips and her rear. In response she bucked her hips up to meet his, which made him moan loudly. Almost instinctively she had parted her thighs, allowing him, as well as herself, to be more comfortable. She could feel him nudge her core, but he was not ready to take her innocence just yet. Thranduil was determined, that even though he was going to be her first, he would make their union as pleasurable for her as he knew it could be for them both. 

Thranduil temporised his actions, with the sole mission of making her as comfortable as possible. His mouth remained solidly positioned against hers. His actions were passionate, though full of patience. He had no desire to hurt her… again. He deliberately widened his knees, letting her thighs rest comfortably over his, while he lowered his head to place butterfly kisses on her neck, before trailing lower. With his large hands, he brought her round breasts closer together. He gazed at her bosom at first, before lowering his mouth to one of her nipples. Her eyes grew wide. She had only ever known nipples to serve one purpose only and that was to suckle infants. Yet Thranduil’s actions brought about further tingle on her body that was already on fire. After some time, he turned his focus to the other nipple, giving it equal attention as he had done the other. She squirmed, making him smirk as his lips enclosed the hardened bud on her breast. He held the nipple in place with his mouth, as he slid his hands beneath her shoulder blades, curling his fingers around her shoulders from below. Faer could feel him press her body more firmly against his and with it she could feel his erection press against her pubic bone again. She shuddered, letting Thranduil know of her apprehension instantly. He understood quite well what undoubtedly ran through her head and concluded it was best to elongate his foreplay, in order to prepare her as much as he possibly could.

Faer became more confident as Thranduil kissed, sucked, squeezed and nuzzled, but he never moved beyond that. She was confused. Did he not want her like that? Somehow Thranduil had picked up on her confusion and carefully reached between her legs, making Faer exasperate heavily. He lifted his eyes to meet hers and smirked. She was ready.

Thranduil lifted himself somewhat, using one hand to position his shaft against her folds. He remained stationary for a brief moment, until he used the same hand to lift her thigh up high, effectively opening her up to him. He sensed her damp core, making it more than possible to invade her warmth, but he knew he had to take things slowly. 

Faer’s breathing increased, as anxiety became evident on her face. Thranduil quickly decided it was time to take her fear away and pushed into her with deliberation. Faer concentrated on what was happening between them a little too much. What should have been pleasurable, was not according to her experience. She felt as though she was being split open violently, even though her husband was far from being rough. Tears had gathered in her eyes, as Thranduil managed to push himself in fully. He stopped moving and kissed her eyes tenderly. There was a certain care in his actions, that made Faer want to cry more, though for different reasons than just moments before. She sensed Thranduil lifting his hands to rest beside her head. She felt his thumb brush away a tear that had escaped and was rolling along the side of her face. He rested her head besides hers, their cheeks brushing against one another. Thranduil could feel her thighs tremble with his invasion, of which he knew the uncomfortable feeling would soon subside. He was determined to make things up with her.

Suddenly Thranduil lifted his head once again and pressed his lips carefully against hers in an attempt to distract her from the moving his hips were desperate to do. As he gently rolled his hips, she instinctively lifted her knees higher, as she had come to realise the position was more comfortable. Before she realised it, she had responded to his kissing more passionately, letting him know that she would be alright. Thranduil said nothing, but smiled. He was ready to elevate her to a level of ecstasy that she deserved. 

After a little while, Thranduil could feel Faer’s hands wander around his back, carefully venturing lower, cautiously exploring. Her fingertips landed on his backside and the moment she realised what she had done, she retracted them again quickly. Thranduil in response took one of her hands into his own and placed it back where it had been just seconds before. Thranduil had just given her permission to touch him in the same way he had touched her. He felt her squeeze the strong flesh of his rear, as he rolled his hips to drive himself into her with more determination.

Thranduil’s voiceless lover had quite involuntarily ceased to be silent and soft moans had started to escape her throat.

“There you go,” he managed, telling her that she was going about it in the right way, while he struggled to ensure his climax would remain at a safe distance, at least until… His train of thought was interrupted, as her facial expression had him worried.

“What’s wrong?” he wondered, as fear gripped his heart.

“Something’s happening to me… I don’t know… I… I’m scared,” she whispered as her facial features stiffened.

“Don’t be… let yourself give in to it… trust me,” Thranduil calmed her, knowing exactly what was happening. He fortified his thrusts, in an attempt to go even deeper than before. He moved within her faster and harder. Her slick had taken away her initial pain and he found his mission of pleasuring her a tremendous success, as her face told him exactly that. 

Suddenly her body went rigid, as her thighs trapped his hips. The muscles in her back spasmed and while she closed her eyes and opened her mouth, Thranduil knew what would be next. What came from deep down was so powerful, that she screamed soundlessly and mere moments later her body shook and shuddered beneath him, trapping his length as her insides clenched profusely. Soon after her body became limp and Thranduil finally allowed himself to reach his own high, while Faer lay panting, trying to recover from her first ever orgasm. As Thranduil climaxed, she felt his warmth within, followed by his shaft pulsating within her core, to ensure she would receive all of his release. 

Thranduil rested his body on his elbows, making sure to keep his full weight off Faer, while she was in the process of catching her breath. She wasn’t certain if she ever could, but gradually she felt the intake of air become easier. She wasn’t sure what to expect next, but as she opened her eyes and gazed onto her husband’s face, she found his eyes to convey longing, care and above all, love. He did not smile, nor did he grin or smirk. His face was serious, as was their union that had ended moments before. He tenderly kissed the tip of her nose, before she felt him speak against her chest.

“Are you alright?” he genuinely wondered.

She shrugged. She felt tender between her folds and sensed that Thranduil was still there. He slid away from her, making her grimace slightly.

“I’m sorry… I did not want to hurt you,” he apologised. 

“I will be fine,” she lied. In fact she wasn’t certain whether she would be. She was physically in pain, and while her climax had been an experience worth repeating, the pain had not been. Though she wasn’t entirely sure whether it was her physical pain that was hurting her. Her husband’s infidelity had caused such heartbreak, that it touched her deeply. There was no turning back now. One deceit had been built on top of another and she was the only one who knew all the facts.

*** 

While Faer had remained in Thranduil’s bed for a good while, when she had found he was fast asleep, she had slipped away from his chambers and retreated to her own domain. Narril had been frantic not knowing where she had been, but since Faer had pretended to be someone else in the past moons, Narril was hardly in a position to initiate a search party for the queen who had gone missing. She felt relieved as Faer slipped into her sleeping quarters, but it was her grief that had Narril worried. Again Faer spoke not of what had happened, of the conflict she felt deep within and the love she had developed for her husband, as someone other than his wife. Her husband was more than just attracted to her, but as far as he knew she was Faer, not Dîs. Her life was a mess and Narril knew not how to pick up the broken pieces of her complicated life.

***


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Faerthurin avoided running into Thranduil in the time that followed. Whenever she had anything to report, she would send someone else to deliver the message on her behalf. She did everything to not have to face him. Her memories often brought her back to the passionate night she had shared with the king, how gentle and caring he had been to her. He was not selfish and she slowly started to realise that she was in fact falling in love with her own husband.

As soon as her physical state allowed it, she volunteered to be part of the next border surveillance party. She felt a strong need to be parted from the king, after what had happened between them, knowing quite well that she had been wrong going along with her husband’s adulterous intentions. She had arranged for Narril to make up an excuse for Dîs not being present in the palace. She would be visiting her parents for an undefined number of days or weeks even, as far as her husband was concerned. He would never deny her that. She would not be missed.

Faer enjoyed being away from royal duties at the palace. She felt liberated and found that she could be herself, without having to worry about her alter ego. As the party was ready to adjourn for the day and had secured the horses, they settled around a large camp fire, where tales and myths from the First Age were being shared. After a while, all grew tired and soon silence swept across the encampment. Faer stared up through the density of the tree tops, looking at the stars, wondering what Thranduil was doing at that very moment. She missed him. A single tear rolled down her cheek after which she silently lulled herself to sleep.

*** 

In the weeks that followed, Thranduil had become moody, although Mennor, his trusted advisor, knew not why. The king had been in a foul mood ever since he learned that Faerthurin had reassigned herself to a task he knew nothing of. He felt that she had deliberately defied him, when she had clearly been tasked with guarding the geese farm. In truth, he simply wanted her to be close. Was she trying to avoid him? The thought alone infuriated him. What had he done to deserve such treatment? He felt abandoned and as time elapsed, the sudden need to be in the company of his wife grew.

“Mennor… I wish for you to collect Dîs from the visit to her parents. I need for her to be by my side. It is time that I try to get to know her better,” he commanded.

Mennor bowed curtly.

“Very well, my Lord. I will see to it immediately,” he responded and with that he was gone.

*** 

“My Lord… the queen is not visiting her parents it seems. Nor were her parents aware of her apparent visit to them,” Mennor spoke softly, knowing that he had just given his king a reason to unleash hell upon him.

“What?” he bellowed.

“Find her aide… Narril… and bring her here,” Thranduil insisted.

*** 

Faerthurin felt weary from the weeks on horseback and longed for some elaborate bathing. She was tending to the horse that had served her well in the past while and scratched his nose, to which the horse responded by lifting it up, baring his teeth.

Slowly she entered the palace, careful not to be seen as she wandered towards her private chambers. She had hoped Narril would be there, but she wasn’t. She shrugged and proceeded to remove her tunic, before discarding them in a large basket that stood out of sight. As she walked into the bathing area, she gazed longingly at the large bath, hoping it would help in dismissing her fatigue. How she had missed a good long bathing.

*** 

“Where is my wife?” Thranduil demanded to know, having raised his voice angrily. Narril’s startled look, told him something was amiss.

“I… I…” she stammered.

“I have not laid eyes on my wife for weeks now, and I am more than happy to let her do as she so pleases, but when I like for her to be by my side, which is but a small request, then those who tend to her every need, should be well aware of her whereabouts,” he shouted.

“Yes, my Lord… I… she has slipped outside for a moment,” Narril suggested.

“And you did not think to follow her… be in her vicinity?” Thranduil became more and more agitated.

“Yes, my Lord… however…” Narril spoke softly.

“However what?” Thranduil hissed angrily.

“She insisted on being alone for a while and I had chores to tend to and…” Narril tried, but she was cut off by one of the king’s guards.

“Apologies for the intrusion, my Lord,” the guard spoke, as he interrupted Narril.

“I believe I saw the queen enter her chambers just now… you are likely to find her there,” he explained. Thranduil immediately stood and walked in the direction of where his wife had taken up residence after they were wed. Narril feared the game was up. Faer would not have time to prepare for her husband’s surprise visit. She followed in the king’s wake, afraid of what was ahead.

Time seemed to tick by slowly as Narril tried to keep up with her king’s long legs, as they made their way through the ever-winding, long hallways. As they reached the queen’s chambers, Thranduil did not bother with knocking, he entered without requesting permission.

As he entered, his head scanned the room, but his wife was not there. A faint splashing sound could be heard from the bathing area, telling Narril that Faer had decided to take a bath after her return from the journey to the realm’s borders. She was completely unaware of their presence. Thranduil took long strides in the bath’s direction. Narril had wanted to protest against the king’s actions about propriety, but decided against it, because there was nothing improper about the king wanting to see his wife, naked or otherwise.

“Dîs!” Thranduil raised his voice, making Faer jump in fear as she heard footsteps moving in her direction. Her breathing accelerated as she frantically looked around if there was anything that could obscure her face, but there was nothing. She closed her eyes and heard Thranduil move closer. She turned her back towards where she knew Thranduil would appear and decided to lower her head, pretending to be shy. As far as the king knew, she had every reason to be.

Thranduil gazed upon his wife, whose body was half immersed in frothy and fragrant water, which rippled around her hips. He did not look away, but noticed how she was desperate to not reveal what she really looked like. She had after all never shown her outward appearance. 

“I apologise, Dîs, lovely wife of mine, but I have been looking for you, as I felt a strong need to have you by my side,” Thranduil’s demeanour had softened. He was upset with Narril, but he had no reason to be angry with his wife.

“I am truly sorry… I… I was out walking in the gardens… the weather was so lovely… and I desired to be on my own for a little bit,” she had lowered her voice, not wanting to expose herself. Her back remained turned towards her husband, her head hung low.

“You are the queen of the Woodland Realm… I advise you to never be on your own… ever,” Thranduil insisted, followed by a brief pause. Perhaps he did not love his wife, but he cared for her enough to ensure her safety. He shot an accusing look at Narril, who felt awful.

“Will you join me for dinner later?” Thranduil asked dutifully, as he observed her long wet hair clinging to her back. He frowned.

“I will,” was the short response, hoping that it would appease her husband and he would leave her be.

“Very well…” and with those words, Thranduil removed himself from her presence.

Narril took a deep breath, finding it astounding how the king had not managed to assess that his wife and Faer were in fact the same elleth. The mystery endured.

*** 

Dîs awaited her husband’s arrival to escort her to the large dining hall. She had again chosen for a veil that covered her entire head. She was anxious, as she was unsure how to eat even one bite of food without exposing her face. She felt nauseous.

Thranduil seated his wife beside himself. He genuinely tried to be a caring husband, for as far as the arrangement went, but Dîs could tell his mind was elsewhere most of the time, as he kept craning his neck to scan the room, eager to lay eyes upon something or someone. Dîs knew exactly where his head was. She allowed herself a moment or two to glance at his strong profile. She smiled beneath the veil as her stomach somersaulted profusely. She was falling for him and there was no turning back from that. 

Suddenly she watched Thranduil lift a piece of veal with his fork and leaned towards her.

“Have you tried this?” he kindly asked her, evidently wanting her to take a bite. Dîs froze.

“I’m not hungry much,” she tried to blow him off.

“This might trigger your appetite,” Thranduil insisted as the veal hovered in front of her veiled face.

“I… I… I’m sorry… I don’t feel so well,” Dîs responded. She wasn’t lying. She was about ready to spill whatever her stomach contained. She somewhat buckled forward, holding her arms in front of her stomach in order to indicate a certain malaise that was tormenting her. Narril was by her side instantly with a look of concern on her face. 

‘With your permission, my Lord, shall I escort your wife to her chambers?” Narril tread carefully, not wanting to further anger her king, as she seemed to have done earlier in the day.

“Please,” Thranduil responded. He wished nothing ill upon his wife and with a worrying gaze, he watched Narril and Dîs remove themselves from the dining table. 

*** 

Narril had half expected Dîs to feign that she was not feeling well, but she soon concluded that she was in fact genuinely ill.

“Please tell me what is the matter, my dear,” Narril asked kindly, as all she wanted was for her queen to be well.

“I feel sick to my stomach… it’s a though something disagreed with me, but…” the words got caught in her throat, as she hurried towards the privy and within moments Narril could hear her retch as though her very stomach was trying to make its way out of her body. Narril had tried to approach her several times, but Dîs snarled at her an equal amount of times, trying to keep her at a distance. After a while she finally emerged, her brow sweaty, as her long brown locks clung to her cheeks. She looked pale. Narril was concerned there was more to her than just feeling unwell. She aided the queen in removing her gown and settled her in the soft bed that beckoned, offering warmth and comfort. She seemed exhausted as sleep took her quickly. Narril just stared at her, unsure what to do.

*** 

As morning came, Narril’s first concern was not for herself, but for her queen. She sat by her side, as Faerthurin swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She gladly took the cup of herbal tea of which Narril hoped it would help subside whatever ailed her.

“Are you feeling a bit better, dear?” she eyed her, trying to see if an answer was evident on the queen’s face.

“I think so… although I cannot be cert…” Faer stopped talking, her body froze. She said or did nothing for a brief moment, until she jumped from the bed and again ran towards the privy. Narril gasped and held her hand in front of her mouth in shock. This was not good at all. Her queen was sick and needed more than just comfort and care. She needed the healers.

*** 

Narril sat, her head in her hands. She knew the game would soon be up. There was no way to avoid the inevitable. The king would have her head if he found out and find out he most certainly would. Narril felt responsible, although she really had no reason to be, yet she had played along at her queen’s request.

The female healer hovered over Faer’s body, having fully examined her, gently readjusting the sheets to cover her once more.

“Ginger,” the healer spoke softly. 

“Ginger?” Narril asked.

“For her stomach… all other symptoms she will simply have to endure until this comes to pass,” the healer explained. Narril nodded.

“I will inform Mennor… he can in turn convey the news to the king,” the healer spoke stoically. Narril froze. This was it. The end of a life she had come to appreciate so much. She felt her heart in her throat and closed her eyes, envisioning how the day would evolve. In her head, each scenario was as disastrous as the next.

“Ginger!” the healer insisted, snapping Narril out of her state of distraction. The healer left and Narril was with Faer moments later to offer her a cup of herbal tea with several large slices of ginger floating around in it.

“Please, drink this my dear, you will feel better soon,” she offered. Faer took a few sips and sighed as though whatever seemed to trouble her stomach was already losing the battle deep down.

“I will draw you a bath… now drink up… let’s not let the day go to waste,” Narril piped, even though she prayed for the day to remain frozen in time. As Faer drank the gingered tea, she thought about what the healer had told her. Things were about to change significantly. She felt relieved in a way, yet she had never felt so frightened about anything in her whole life… _ever_. She thought of Thranduil. He was so unpredictable that she knew not how he would react to whatever the healer would share with him. Surely he would feel pleased that she was not in danger of losing her life. Surely he would.

*** 

“Enter,” a calm voice came from the royal chambers. Mennor entered, his trusty ledger beneath his arm.

“Please sit down, Mennor… I have a few things I want to discuss with you and it entails some residential rearrangements around the palace,” Thranduil explained. Mennor had no idea what his king was referring to, but as was always the case, he would be enlightened soon enough.

“Also, I would like you to find Faerthurin for me. She had indulged in a weeks’ long journey to ensure the safety of our borders, yet I had tasked her with something else… I need to have a strong word with her… I cannot tolerate disobedience… from anyone,” he pretended to be cross, but what he really wanted was again to be close to the elleth who had captivated him.

“Very well, my Lord,” Mennor bowed slightly.

“Good… anything else?” Thranduil wondered as Mennor was not yet moving to take his leave.

“I wanted to pass on my felicitations, my Lord. I was most pleased to be informed of the joyous news by one of the healers,” Mennor smiled.

“I beg your pardon?” Thranduil frowned, the crease between his eyebrows deepening dangerously. His breathing accelerated at the news Mennor was trying to convey, yet he was unsure what his advisor was saying exactly.

“I have not yet spoken to any of the healers yet… please do enlighten me,” Thranduil tried to remain composed, though deep down his heart thumped loudly.

“Narril had summoned one of the healers this morning, as the queen’s sickness seemed to endure after last night. She examined the queen and shared with me the most wondrous news. I daresay, the kingdom will be overjoyed,” Mennor said with a pleased tone in his voice.

“What on earth are you talking about, Mennor?” the king bellowed loudly, wanting his advisor to use words plainly. Mennor was startled, uncertain whether he deserved being addressed as such.

“The queen… she is with child,” Mennor said, not knowing how to convey the news more clearly.

“She is _what?_ ” Thranduil fumed.

“I apologise, my Lord… I would have thought this was welcome news,” Mennor cowered.

Thranduil’s nostrils flared. His mind raced. He was beyond angry. He had never shared a bed with his wife, let alone be intimate with her in any way, yet she was with child? He was furious, at Dîs, but also at himself for letting her be so free as the queen of the Woodland Realm. He would have the culprit’s head. His reputation would not be soiled by anyone.

Thranduil suddenly stood, pushing the chair away from him roughly with the hollows of his knees. The chair almost tipped over, letting Mennor know how beside himself the king truly was. For a moment he wondered if he had said something he shouldn’t have, but for the life of him he couldn’t think of anything. 

“Where is she?” Thranduil demanded to know.

“Who?” Mennor stated in a tone that spoke confusion.

“My _wife!_ ” Thranduil hissed.

“Why… in her chambers, I would assume,” Mennor’s eyes grew big. He understood nothing of what was happening.

Thranduil could not recall how he had managed to make his way to her chambers so quickly, yet in his head, hours had passed before he stood in front of the doors that would allow him entrance.

He roughly pushed the doors open and slammed them shut fiercely, letting the two occupants in the bed chamber know that the king had arrived.

Faer stood, lifting the sheets up high around her, to partly let them cover her face. 

Thranduil entered, his expression livid, his body trembling with rage.

“Leave us,” he hissed at Narril, who hurriedly removed herself from the chambers.

Silence fell between them. Faer simply stared at Thranduil, not knowing whether it would be wise to speak. She didn’t have to. It was her husband who spoke first.

“I believe you have something to explain to me,” he voiced venomously. “How is it that you are with child when we have never…” Thranduil’s words halted, as Faer lowered the sheet and turned to face him. His jaw dropped as he regarded his wife.

“What… is the meaning of this?” he hissed loudly.

“Where is my wife?” he asked, trying to wrap his head around the situation presented to him. Faer swallowed before speaking.

“I am _she_ ,” she whispered, in fright of how her husband would respond to the revelation. She was able to tell he was trying to be away with the confusion that had entered his head.

“You? _You_ are my wife?” he asked in disbelief. Faer nodded.

“You are Dîs?” he again asked, wanting the misery in his stomach to be gone. Faer lifted her head boldly and responded.

“I am Faerthurin… when we were married, I became officially known as _Faerthurindis_ … your wife,” she explained, uncertainty in her eyes.

Thranduil let the words sink in, before mumbling. “ _Secret spirit bride_ ,” he stated softly, referring to the meaning of his wife’s name. Faer saw the desperation in his eyes.

“You planned on betraying me from the very beginning, when I have been nothing but kind and understanding towards you,” Thranduil spat at his wife.

“I planned nothing of the kind,” it was Faer who had raised her voice in response.

“You made it quite clear you wanted nothing to do with me, even though we had been wed… for the sole purpose of _your_ reputation… excuse me for trying to make the most of the situation,” she spoke angrily.

“And so you decided to betray me by pretending to be someone you were not,” Thranduil gritted his teeth lividly.

“I have never pretended to be anything but myself… I have always been Faerthurin, a warrior at heart, a free spirit, while keeping up the façade of queen, by being Dîs, whom you had only ever known to be your wife,” she explained. She was infuriated. The deceit had not been hers alone. It was in fact her husband who had knowingly been unfaithful, though he really hadn’t been, but he never knew.

“And did you not think I would find out some day?” he bellowed, his posture rigid with anger.

“Every day of our married life,” she spoke in honesty.

“You have betrayed me and I don’t see a way back from that,” he spat.

“May I remind you, that you are equally guilty of betrayal. You never regarded me as anything, least of all your wife, who could have potentially loved you, who may at one point have become your bed partner, the mother of your children… you never tried, yet when Faer came along, you decided to be away with all responsibilities that came with the bond of marriage,” she accused him.

“Tell me, _wife_ , who did I fall for? Was it Faer, or was it Dîs? Because I have always been kind to both,” he asked mockingly.

“Have you though?” she snorted derisively, reminding him how he had cheated on Dîs with Faer.

“We are one and the same, but for some reason you felt more drawn to the warrior in me… I have always been myself. Had you bothered to spend more time with Dîs, you would have discovered that I was so much more than just a female companion to be by your side whenever you needed me to be,” she spoke with hurt in her eyes.

“When the opportunity presented itself for me to be free to do as I pleased… to be _myself_ , I took it, with both hands, as I never had any desire to be in this marriage to begin with. Yet it was you who felt the need to betray me with my alter ego. Do not attempt to blame me for a treachery that is yours and yours alone,” she spoke, although she knew she wasn’t being entirely reasonable. They were both to blame for the awful situation they had landed themselves in.

“As I recall it, you did not exactly object to my affections… you knew _who_ you were… whereas I did not… you deliberately left me in the dark,” Thranduil spoke.

“You are my husband… I grew fond of you… we had a bond… a bond I knew we would never have as husband and wife… I longed for it… I craved it…” she paused.

“…I am only made of flesh and blood… I was unable to resi…” she ceased to talk.

She gazed down towards the floor for a brief while, before speaking again.

“Your infidelity was difficult for me to handle… it is why I reassigned myself to tasks that were expected from me… I could not stay,” she admitted.

“I was never unfaithful, as it now seems… I have broken no law,” Thranduil insisted that he was not at fault.

“No… you broke no law… just my heart,” Faer spoke with a trembling voice, as a tear rolled down her cheek. Thranduil felt something for the elleth at that very moment, but could not let go of the secrets she had deliberately upheld from day one.

“In that case you will want to be rid of me… once the child is born, I will release you from your vows and responsibilities as queen and my wife… but the child will remain here,” Thranduil spoke harshly. Faer gasped, unsure whether she had heard the words correctly.

“You mean to have me part from my baby?” a quiver in her voice.

“I mean for you to part from the child that is _mine_ … a child that will be second in line of my throne, after my son Legolas,” he explained without conveying a single show of emotion, though deep down he was crying. He had fallen so hard for the strong elleth that was a warrior in his army, who had secretly been his wife since she had moved into the palace… yet her betrayal was not something he could relinquish easily. 

Faer sank to the floor in agony, tears streaming down my face. She had been broken.

“Is it not enough that you married me against my will, that you never regarded me as the wife I could have been, that you were unfaithful… and now you want to take my child away from me?” she shouted at him.

“Why don’t you just kill me now!” she screamed. She lifted her hands up to hold her head steady. It felt like it was ready to explode. The room twirled… she felt dizzy and suddenly everything went dark.

***


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Faer blinked once, then quickly close her eyes again. She tried blinking again. As she managed to keep her eyes open for a little longer, she sense a dull sensation in her head. She lifted herself into a more upright position on the bed she had been in earlier. She had hoped for Narril to be there, but she wasn’t. She had for hoped her husband to be there, but she knew he wouldn’t be. His ice cold demeanour had spoken volumes. She no longer had any hope for them. They were beyond repair. Tears gathered in her eyes, as she scanned the room. She noticed two guards in the distance by the entrance to the ante-chamber. There was another presence in the room. Someone she was not familiar with. A stern-looking elleth who was there to tend to her needs.

“Where is Narril?” Faer asked cautiously. The elleth did not respond immediately.

“She has been removed from the palace… I am Siora. I will be by your side until it is time for you to deliver,” the elf spoke softly.

“And then?” Faer asked, fear on her face.

“I do not know,” Siora replied in all honesty.

“Am I to be a prisoner until…” Faer could not say the words. Her life had fallen to pieces. Siora shrugged. She had one task assigned to her and was not informed of more than that.

It would be several cycles until she was due, yet it seemed she was destined to spend the remainder of her pregnancy in the confines of her chambers. Thranduil was the only one who knew what was to happen after that. She felt tears swell up in her eyes again, as she clutched her chest at the level of where her heart was. It felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible force and it was a feeling she had hoped never to experience. She longed for Thranduil to be by her side. She desired to talk to him, have a conversation with him, make him see sense, help him understand how they had been equally at fault and that they could still have a future together. She wanted to feel his warm embrace around her. She knew deep down that it would never happen… not anymore. She lifted her knees and rested her elbows on them, lowering her head into her bent arms to hide the fact that she was crying again.

*** 

Faer was almost upon the third trimester of her pregnancy. According to the healers, she was healthy, but she didn’t feel like she was. She could feel the baby within move, which was the only bit of love she sensed in her presence, as no one else seemed to give any to her, least of all Thranduil. Every so often, he would visit her chambers, only to remain at a safe distance, conversing with Siora to get the latest update on his pregnant wife. Once in a while, she would be allowed outside, but only under the supervision of Siora, who was by her side at all times, while two guards flanked them both. She had seen Thranduil from a distance, ruling the kingdom. On occasion their eyes met, and while her eyes conveyed a longing for her estranged husband, he dismissed it immediately. Every single time it happened, she could feel her heart breaking further.

While Faer was well on the way of bringing her pregnancy to full term, she barely showed it. She had a modest abdomen, which could easily be hidden with the right garments. A plan began to form within her head.

An outing into the palace gardens relieved her mind somewhat, as it made her not feel so imprisoned, even if the opportunity only lasted a short while.

Suddenly a familiar rustling caught her attention.

“Leave us,” she recognised her husband’s deep silken voice. Faer looked up from the bench she had sat down on in the palace gardens, while Siora and the two guards removed themselves to be at a more appropriate distance. 

Thranduil sat down beside her, leaving enough room for two others to comfortably sit between them. He said nothing for a while, as he let the sun light up his face. His presence posed no threat, but felt rather comforting in a way. Faer, however, dared not look at her husband, afraid of how he might respond if she did. He finally broke the silence.

“How are you feeling?” he asked kindly. The question was not formal, there was a certain warmth and sincerity to it. Faer found it took her by surprise, as she sensed the care in the way he posed the question, which made her heart ache more so than it already did. Why was he toying with her? She was unable to cope with it and found only one response suited the situation, as her heavy heart screamed at her, desperate for the hurt to end. She stood suddenly and slowly removed herself from the garden bench, leaving Thranduil to his thoughts and wonder.

“I will live,” she stated, her voice quivering with sorrow. She hurried in the direction where she knew Siora would be waiting. The aide noticed her grief-stricken face and found that her own heart broke a little for her queen. Surely she did not deserve to be treated so unjustly. No one deserved it.

Thranduil’s breathing had accelerated, an evident lump in his throat. He felt a certain guilt wash over him as he watched his former lover, his wife, increase the distance between them. He was far from over her.

*** 

Siora guided Faer to her private chambers. The guards remained outside, as they trusted Siora’s assignment of keeping an eye on the queen and her precious cargo. Once inside, the aide ushered Faer towards the bathing area, swiftly undressing her, before checking the temperature of the bath and allowing her to safely submerge herself in the soothing fragrance of the oils she had added to the water only moments before. She sat on the edge washing Faer’s shoulders, going about it a little more roughly than usual. The splashing of the water echoed off the walls, creating a sound which seemed to annoy Faer unnecessarily. She frowned, wondering why Siora felt the need to go about things so differently than usual. Suddenly she understood. Siora made an attempt to have the sound of splashing water obscure their conversation.

“We have to get you out of here, my Lady,” Siora spoke bluntly. Faer turned around, shock on her face. 

“What did you say?” she gasped.

“Please do not let me repeat myself,” the aide said as she lowered her gaze in what felt like shame.

“You are unhappy… and I can no longer bear seeing you like this… I will help you leave the palace… should you so desire,” Siora explained.

“But… you will be banished from the palace… the king will hold you responsible,” Faer shook her head as she spoke the words.

“And I will join my sister, knowing I have done the right thing,” Siora whispered. Faer gazed at Siora’s kind face, which would otherwise look stern and void of emotion. 

“Narril?” Faer wondered, to which Siora merely nodded. 

“She also tried to help you… guide you in feeling happy… she was only partly successful, and for that she was punished… I will be glad to join her side once again, if it means you can in a way find more happiness than what you have been granted now,” Siora spoke boldly. Faer felt the torment within her heart. While she was no more than an ordinary prisoner in the king’s palace, the thought of Thranduil being close, though cold he always seemed to be towards her, somehow kept her spirit up. The way in which Thranduil had approached her moments earlier, had confused her and it had felt as though her heart had been ripped from her chest. Surely anything was better than to remain in the palace? She would not have to be parted from her child and face a fate that was unknown to her. She thought about the possibilities for a moment, before nodding lightly.

*** 

Thranduil had thought long and hard of Faer’s response to how he had approached her. He had been harsh, indifferent and cold towards her for a long time, yet he had never lost his pull towards her. The way in which he had decided to speak to her felt like the right thing to do, but it had triggered an emotion deep within his wife, one he did not understand. It seemed he had become estranged from his wife… or rather she had become estranged from him. He cursed at himself for being too supine in trying to make amends. He had been upset with her, but the care and love he carried for her, far outweighed his anger. Had he waited too long? Had his pride got in the way of things? He hoped he was wrong in assuming the same, as he abruptly stood, before taking large paces towards the entrance of his royal chambers. He had to talk to Faer… he had to see if there was anything left to salvage.

*** 

Siora sat on a chair, her focus on the needlework in her hands, as Thranduil entered his wife’s chambers noisily. The aide looked up and stood, out of respect for her king. Thranduil gazed around the ante-chamber, then proceeded in the direction of where he knew her bed chamber was. He quickly turned and gave Siora a demanding look.

“Where is she?” he raised his voice. Siora swallowed calmly.

“Gone,” she simply replied. Thranduil thought his ears were deceiving him for a brief moment.

“What?” he bellowed, quickly losing control of his infamous temper.

“She is gone, my Lord,” Siora calmly repeated herself.

“I heard you the first time… gone where?” he insisted on finding out.

“I do not know… what I do know is that she indicated wanting to be where you would not find her,” Siora explained, ready to accept the hell she was sure Thranduil would unleash upon her.

Thranduil knew not what to say and just looked around him in a daze, as he lowered himself on one of the chairs. Siora wasn’t entirely certain what she had expected, but she certainly had not expected a king who seemed to have landed himself in a turmoil of sadness. Siora stood.

“I will take my leave now, my Lord… of you and the palace,” she said softly, before preparing to exit the queen’s chambers. Thranduil had not even paid attention to Siora’s words. He was a broken ellon. He had lost his wife, as well as his unborn child and he had no one to blame but himself.

***

“Faer, you have to take it easy… it’s not good for the little one,” Ruvyn said as he quickly approached her, while she wielded the scythe with a certain agility. 

“I will be fine, Ruvyn… don’t pay attention to me, the last thing I need is for Lord Halamar to find out,” she hastened to tell the farmer who managed the fields on Lord Halamar’s estate. 

“I cannot afford for him to let me go… else I won’t be able to take care of the baby once it’s here,” she heaved lightly, as she placed one hand on her belly. The wide tunic she had been wearing easily obscured her pregnancy from those who didn’t know any better. Ruvyn had discovered by chance, but Faer had begged him not to tell anyone, least of all the lord who had been kind enough to offer her the employment. She had no other way to sustain herself without it. Ruvyn had taken pity on her and offered her to remain, as long as she would pull her weight and not let her pregnancy get in the way of her assignments. He realised it was hard work for an elleth in her condition, but Faer had managed to convince him it would not be a problem. She had lied through her teeth. She was constantly tired and the days were already very long. She slept poorly, she could not muster the energy to eat much, but forced herself to eat just enough, to ensure the baby would grow as expected. Ruvyn felt sorry for her, yet he never showed it. He had his own responsibilities to uphold and while he cared for Faer, she was a liability. He knew she had no one significant in her life to help her and his concern for Faer being able to execute her work after the baby was born, troubled him. He could not see how she would combine the two, while being on her own. He had tried to find out about her past, but whenever the conversation steered in that direction, she had shut him down and stopped speaking. Ruvyn had decided to leave it, as he concluded it was none of his business anyway.

“I will journey into Framsburg later, as I have business there on Lord Halamar’s behalf. Will you be alright?” Ruvyn asked kindly.

“I will be fine, stop worrying about me,” Faer smiled faintly, realising Ruvyn had every reason to be concerned, especially since her due date was almost upon her. The farmer eyed her suspiciously, but let the conversation rest.

Faer had continued to harvest the corn that had been beautifully bountiful, as she manoeuvred the scythe skilfully across the surface of the soil . She took one of the large cobs into her hand and eyed the bright yellow kernels. Lord Halamar would be pleased. His crops were commendable. She looked around her, observing the green and fertile land around her, the edge of the Misty Mountains behind her. Her thoughts wandered to Thranduil for a mere second, before her attention was drawn to a sharp stinging sensation in her lower abdomen. Whatever she had felt was strong but brief. She was startled, but shook her head as she lifted the scythe once more. Suddenly she felt a fierce pain not just in her lower abdomen, but an ache that seemed to spread across her entire belly. She felt an awkward warmth between her legs, as a clear liquid penetrated the leggings and tunic she was wearing. Panic engulfed her, while she deliberately retreated into the density of the corn that still had to be harvested. She found it difficult to remain on her feet, and as she felt another surge of pain run through her, she groaned loudly and buckled forward. She then cried silently. She needed Thranduil. She missed him.

*** 

Thranduil sat at the table in his ante-chamber. Mennor sat across from him, writing in his ledger. Suddenly the king looked up and gazed at his advisor.

“Did you hear that?” he asked, his eyes wide with shock.

“Hear what, my Lord?” his advisor wondered, as he looked up from his task.

“Did you not hear that scream?” the king asked again, as he stood, walking towards the large window, where the faint light of dusk entered the room.

“I’m sorry, my Lord… I heard nothing,” Mennor spoke truthfully as he settled is eyes on his king.

Thranduil stared at the view from his domain and seemed lost in thought for a moment, until he shook his head.

“It must have been in my imagination,” he sighed, as he closed his eyes. Had it been his imagination? He could not explain it, but an unnerving feeling swept through his body.

*** 

Images floated by with tremendous speed. Recollections of pain, lots of pain and agony. Flashes of hot and cold, Thranduil looking down at her, smiling. She could hear his soothing voice speak to her. _How are you feeling?_ She could hear someone screaming, until she realised she was the one screaming at the top of her lungs. Another scream could be heard in the distance. It wasn’t a scream, but more of a cry… the cry turned into a whimper, followed by silence.

She wasn’t certain how much time had passed, since the images had haunted her unconscious form. She blinked several times, before opening her eyes. She was taking in her surroundings. She smelt the freshly cut corn, until her attention was drawn to her hands. They felt slippery and sticky at the same time. She lifted one hand in front of her and noticed it to be red. 

_Blood._

She felt something move on top of her, something she had subconsciously wrapped in the fabric of her tunic. Faint gurgling noises could be heard from within the fabric. She looked down at her chest, to find her other hand protectively holding that which was moving. Slowly she managed to sit up, sensing a distinct ache between her legs. She found her leggings pushed down to her ankles and noticed the mess beneath her thighs. It took a few seconds for her to realise what had happened. She had given birth and had carefully placed the baby against her chest. The umbilical cord was still connected to the infant. She carefully took some of the strings from her tunic to bind the cord. The blade of the scythe that lay nearby, severed the tough tissue. The life she had given birth to, was now on its own.

Faer realised she could not remain where she was, as she tenderly placed the moving bundle on the ground, after which she adjusted her damp and soiled clothing. She had to get back to the farm. Her legs felt uneasy, and were possibly unable to carry her back to her modest lodging, but she forced herself regardless, as she owed it to the life that was moving on the ground. She briefly laid eyes on what she knew was the afterbirth, before ignoring the scythe that lay beside it. She picked up her child and dragged herself from the field. She needed to clean up… the infant as well as herself. Then she would rest… not before.

*** 

“Faer!” came an insistent voice, as darkness had settled across the land.

A loud knock could be heard on the wooden door of her small room. She could barely open her eyes, as her fatigue seemed to drag her into the realm of slumber.

“I’m here,” she almost whispered. The door opened and Ruvyn entered. His eyes widened with the sight before him, as he found Faer lying on her narrow bed, beside her, beneath a maternally protective arm, was a baby. The infant was very small. Ruvyn alternated his gaze from the dark circles beneath Faer’s eyes, to the white blond tuft of hair on top of the baby’s head. Ruvyn approached carefully.

“Is it… a boy or a girl?” he wondered.

“ _Glanion_ ,” she merely said, as she lovingly laid eyes on her son. Ruvyn nodded.

“The white blond… I have never seen anything like it… who is his father?” Ruvyn tactlessly wondered, as he stared at Faer’s brown locks.

“It doesn’t matter,” she responded all too quickly, letting Ruvyn know that it was not something she wished to discuss. He understood.

“I will leave you be for the next few days… do not worry about the crops or the work that needs to be done… I will manage it, but as soon as you feel up to it again, I must ask you to return to the fields with me,” he said with guilt in his eyes. Faer knew he was right. If she was to continue earning her keep in order to provide for herself and her son, she could not afford to stay in bed too long.

“I will return back to work tomorrow,” she said sleepily. Ruvyn knew she was talking nonsense and responded in the only way he knew how to.

“We will see,” he whispered, before leaving Faer and Glanion. Both had fallen asleep even before he had closed the door behind him.

***


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Every morning just before dawn, Faer dragged her weary body onto the fields that needed her and Ruvyn’s attention. Before venturing outside, she would carefully strap Glanion to her chest. He was quite safe, while she worked and whenever he needed to be fed, she was able to provide him instant care, as he would happily suck her nipple, eager to still the hunger that kept returning over and over. 

Several weeks had passed and Ruvyn noticed how Faer poorly coped with the hard labour and caring for her son, as she managed to execute her tasks with increased difficulty. Her nights were short, the days were long. She had lost weight and Glanion seemed insatiable when it came to his hunger. After a while Faer realised that her own aggravated physical state, had caused her to produce less milk. Almost every night, she cried herself to sleep, only to wake several hours later, to a hungry infant. She couldn’t do it anymore. Her son deserved more than this. He deserved a full belly, the kind of love that was perpetual, the kind she felt she was unable to give him. He deserved warmth and comfort. He deserved his father.

She finally opened up to Ruvyn in the days that followed, explaining everything to him. Ruvyn merely sat and listened to the heartbroken elleth in front of him. He wanted more for her, but knew not how to help, other than provide his support. It was Faer who suggested she take one of the horses from Lord Halamar’s stables, as a loan, so she could bring Glanion to the Woodland Realm. If she wasn’t able to give her son the care he needed, she knew his father would. She had no choice. Her life was _nothing_. The life of her infant son was _everything_.

Much to Faer’s surprise, Ruvyn had agreed to the proposal, even though he knew, that once Faer had brought the boy back to his father, she was not likely to ever return again. She had made her decision.

*** 

The journey was long and difficult, but her spirit lifted when she finally reached the borders of Mirkwood. At the same time, anxiety gripped her. She hoped her presence in the forest would go unnoticed. She had no desire to run into anything or anyone. The safety and well-being of her son was all she cared about, though grief struck her as she realised that she would soon be parted from her beautiful baby boy.

Several days passed, before she came even close to the palace, also known as the Elvenking Halls, her former home. She pondered long and hard how she would go about leaving her fragile infant on the palace doorsteps. She could not risk the infant being exposed to the elements or other dangers for too long. He needed to be noticed almost immediately after her leaving him there. She felt awful, having to abandon her child like that, but it would be the only way to ensure he would live and would be given the care and lead the prosperous life he deserved. It was simply how it had to be.

As the veil of night covered the kingdom, she waited patiently in the density of the forest, waiting for a suited moment to execute her plan. She found the main gates to the palace to be closed, as she had expected nothing less. But she was much aware of the guards that stood just behind the closed gate. She turned her attention to the softly squealing baby sounds, that could be heard from the basket she had carefully placed on the ground beneath the bushes. From her tunic she took an envelope, which had only two words on it: _King Thranduil_. She slipped the envelope into the basket with her baby. It would have to do. 

Silence swept across the forest as well as the kingdom as a whole. She stealthily ventured forward, placing the basket that held her son at the front of the gate. She would keep an eye out for her child from a small distance, in case the infant would be in danger by something or other. 

As she removed herself from the palace gate with pain in her heart, she watched, before lifting a large rock into her hand. She lifted her arm and skilfully hurled the rock in the direction of the tall gate. With a loud and clearly audible thud, it connected with the gate’s surface. She lowered herself to remain out of sight. She waited for a moment, until suddenly the gate opened just enough for one of the guards to slip outside and investigate what the noise had all been about. The guard noticed the rock on the ground before him, but was shocked to find something else as well. _A baby_. His eyes grew large and without hesitation he lifted the basket and carried it inside. The gate closed again shortly after. Faer sighed in relief. Her task had been completed. It was time for her to part from her son’s life, as well as her own forever. She no longer had anything to live for, but at least her son would be safe.

*** 

“My Lord,” came the insistent voice that belonged to Mennor. Thranduil grunted annoyedly, wondering what his impatient advisor felt was so urgent to share with him in the dead of night. 

“My Lord!” he could hear Mennor raise his voice louder.

“What?” the king bellowed, as Mennor considered it his cue to venture into the king’s sleeping chambers.

“Something urgent I must show you, my Lord,” Mennor insisted again.

“Can this not wait until morning?” the king huffed in his direction.

“I’m afraid it cannot, my Lord… please, will you follow me?” Mennor kindly requested, as he turned to exit the royal chambers. Thranduil was behind him, after having slipped on his robe. He followed Mennor in the direction of where he knew the healing chambers resided. As both elves entered, one of the healers stepped aside from her task at hand, revealing a basket. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Thranduil growled, not understanding what the urgency was. 

“This came for you, my Lord… it was abandoned just outside the palace,” the healer explained, as she approached him, handing him an envelope on which he could clearly read _King Thranduil_. He glanced at the elegant writing on the envelope, making him frown. It was the soft gurgling sounds that came from the basket that suddenly drew him closer. As he looked inside, he noticed a small infant, no older than two, maybe three months of age. He wanted to respond derisively, wondering what parent would, in their right mind, abandon a child in the way they had done, but refrained from doing so after looking at the child more closely. The baby did not seem in any way distressed. The blanket that had been wrapped around him was tattered, but the child was not cold, nor did he seem malnourished. His jaw dropped as he finally laid eyes on the white blonde hair that adorned the baby’s head. He swallowed hard. The small infant was the spitting image of his son Legolas at that same age. There was not a doubt in his mind that this was his child. His breathing became accelerated and shallow. What? How? He had so many questions, but the first thought that came to his mind was of _Faerthurin_.

He glanced at the envelope in his hand and opened it aggressively. He lifted the note from the envelope and read it:

_You have won. Glanion is yours.  
F. _

Thranduil stood for only a brief while, his entire being engulfed in shock. It took him a moment or two to return to the room he was in.

“When was the infant brought to the palace?” he asked, demanding an instant response. It was Mennor who responded.

“Just now, my Lord. We came to you almost immediately,” he explained. Mennor wasn’t entirely certain whether the answer pleased the king or not, but he had not expected him to react in the way he did.

“Well, what are you waiting for? His mother is probably still close… we have to find her!” Thranduil bellowed. Mennor curtly bowed and with a quick _I am on it, my Lord_ he removed himself from the healing rooms to mobilise a party to look for the king’s long lost wife. 

Thranduil felt the need to join the party and quickly dressed himself, ordering for one of his horses to be saddled immediately. If anyone could be successful in finding her, it would be him. While the bond between him and his wife had never had an opportunity to spring to life, he felt there was still something, the faint beginnings of what could have been. It was only after Faerthurin had left the kingdom, that he realised there was something special between them. Something he had decided to never give the time of day, even though he had plenty of opportunity, after his wife’s deceit had come to light. He regretted it every day since she had parted from him. 

*** 

Faer’s weakened legs desperately attempted to create a significant distance between her and the palace for as fast as they would allow. She had left her horse at the edges of the forest, not wanting to unnecessarily endanger the animal, but it was still a long way until the borders of Mirkwood. 

She had no desire to be noticed, least of all by anyone who resided within the palace. She dreaded to be imprisoned for having left, having taken the king’s child away from him, for abandoning him. She feared that her repetitive reputation of fleeing, would be held against her. She could not afford to remain in Mirkwood. She ran and ran, until she could no longer run. She had been broken in so many ways. She needed a rest and if the odds were in her favour at all, fate would let her die.

She lowered herself onto a soft patch of moss, while low branches of a dark bush hung over her depleted body. 

*** 

Thranduil had become frantic with the notion of Faer having been so close to him. He was desperate to find her. He had to right his wrongs. He hoped it wasn’t too late for him to bring her home. His nostrils flared at his own stubbornness of having treated her in such an abominable way. He was better than that… or so he had thought. If Faer were to reject him, she would be well within her rights. 

The king could hear the loud thumping of his own heart, as he scanned the dark of the forest. He forced himself to calm down, else he would not be able to hear anything else. Not only was he desperate to find his wife, but he was also dead set on getting himself, as well as Faer out of the forest unscathed. He knew of the dangers that lurked in the shadows of the woods. Time was of the essence, in more ways than one.

He ushered two of his guards to dismount, while he jumped off his own horse at the same time. The horses’ hooves were simply too loud on the muddy ground. He knew not why he felt the need to dismount right there and then. There was something, although he was unable to put his finger on it. He signalled his guards to stay with the horses, while he ventured a little further away from them. He squinted.

Quite unexpectedly, he felt as though his heart had stopped beating, as he picked up on a faint and slow breathing. He followed the feeble sound, pushing away shrubs and leaves, until his eyes fell on the still form, he immediately recognised as his wife’s. 

He silently sobbed for the elleth he knew he loved like no other. He acknowledged how she was different, thin, overwhelmed with fatigue, but in his eyes she was as beautiful as ever. He quickly brushed the tears away from his face with the back of his hand, before crouching down beside her, as he pulled her limp body towards him, lifting her up into his arms. She remained completely motionless.

The guards’ faces lit up as they observed their king walk toward them with his wife in his arms. 

“Assist me,” he ordered, letting them know that he was going to mount his horse first, after which they would lift her up to sit on his horse in front of him.

Once the party was ready to return to the palace, Thranduil noticed how Faer’s head bobbed from one side to the other as they rode forth, letting him know that she had not yet lost all the strength in her body.

“Stay with me, my love… I have you,” he spoke tenderly as he kissed her temple.

*** 

Faer felt comfortable and warm. Finally, she had found rest and she cared not whether it had been in her previous life or the next. She had done right by her son and that was all that mattered. A faint smile appeared on her face. It was an expression of contentment. She was at peace.

A voice could be heard close by.

“How are you feeling?”

She could sense herself frown. The voice sounded familiar.

“No… not that dream again,” she grunted.

“Go away,” she whispered disapprovingly, before losing consciousness once more.

*** 

Faer’s nose wrinkled, taking in the scents from wherever she was. A light hum of approval escaped her body. Her head felt heavy, as did her eyelids. She was not ready to greet whatever awaited. She tried to move, but couldn’t. A certain weight held her down, but she had yet to assess what it was that kept her from lifting herself. She concluded that it was her fatigue that had somewhat disabled her to be mobile. She accepted it and dug her head into the pillow beneath. It took her a moment to acknowledge her own thoughts. _Pillow?_ Last thing she recalled was the soft and slightly damp moss in Mirkwood.

_Mirkwood!_ She had to get out of there. Panic struck her, but she did not have the strength to act on her shock.

“Sshht,” a voice came from behind her. Whatever weight was holding her down, she started to realise it was an arm. She felt a butterfly kiss on her bare shoulder, where the white tunic she was wearing had slipped away from her skin.

“How are you feeling?” she again heard the question that was all too familiar to her. She did not reply. She did not know how. Numerous emotions and thoughts raced through her mind, sadness, grief, a broken heart, fatigue, a mother’s love…

“Glanion!” she suddenly screamed, as she tried to raise herself, while tears ran freely.

“Ssht… our son is fine… he’s asleep… just there,” the arm that had been around her pointed at the crib that sat beside the large bed. Faer did not immediately lower herself, eager to see her son, which she had been forced to leave behind. She suddenly cried loudly, blaming herself for being an awful mother. She felt a warm hand on her back, rubbing her tenderly with circular motions.

“Just let it out… cry as much as you feel the need to… and when you want to, you can cry some more,” came the voice, she had finally acknowledged to be Thranduil’s.

Thranduil knew not how long he had remained by her side, while she let out a lifetime of grief that she simply had to be rid of. He had been responsible for a lot of her pain and felt it was only right that he was there to comfort and support her, though he did not know how to engage in a dialogue that would mend whatever had been broken. She needed time.

After a good while, the grief that had made her body spasm so violently, had caused her to grow tired and she slipped into a deep slumber once more. Thranduil stayed with her. He would be there whenever she were to wake. 

*** 

Faer woke, clutching her breasts. She grimaced. As she glanced down at the white fabric, she noticed the damp spots at the height of her nipples. While the production of her breast milk had decreased in the weeks prior, not having fed her baby in a while, made her breasts feel like they were ready to explode. She glanced at the crib that stood by the bed, where she had been told her son was. She could sense him being restless and as his mother she knew exactly why. She slipped from the bed. A deep sigh could be heard from behind her. She was startled as she abruptly turned her head.

Thranduil was on the bed, in deep sleep, his white blond hair fanned across the pillow. He was fully clothed, letting her know that he had quite possibly been by her side since he had found her in the woods. She ventured carefully, not wanting to disturb her husband’s peaceful slumber.

She tiptoed towards the crib, lifting her son from it. She brought the infant to her face. She inhaled to take in his scent. How could she have ever considered parting from him? Her memories of doing so were gut-wrenching.

As she sat back down onto the bed, resting her back against the headboard, she lifted the small boy’s face up. She loosened the string that was holding her tunic in place around her neck, allowing it to slip down over her shoulders. She tenderly positioned the baby, as she brought her breast to his mouth. The infant instantly found the teat and started sucking fervently. She looked at him with all the love she could muster.

“That’s it, my beautiful baby boy,” she softly whispered, smiling down on him. 

As the baby drank, she pushed her head back and closed her eyes. She was still tired, but the turmoil in her head had seemed to have calmed. She sighed deeply, while she listened to the infant’s breaths in between his gulps.

“Are you so hungry, little one?” a deep voice startled her. Faer looked to her side and watched Thranduil place a gentle kiss on the top of the boy’s head, his long hair tickling her exposed breast, before gazing at his mother’s face.

Faer swallowed hard.

“Your mother has taken good care of you,” he spoke softly, not looking away from Faer’s grey eyes.

“I haven’t,” came Faer’s response. “I abandoned him, because I was out of options… I had to bring him to you… it was the only way for him to receive the love and care he needs,” she said as her ears went red with shame.

“Do you think so little of yourself?” Thranduil asked, as he stared at her.

“No… but you did!” she accused him. Thranduil sat back and considered her words for a moment. He sighed, as though a heavy burden rested on his shoulders.

“And I regret that. There was not a day that has gone by, I didn’t regret what I had said or done… you have to believe me,” he pleaded.

“I want to, but…” Faer fell silent.

“I understand… you have no reason to trust me, and it hurts me terribly. I may never be worthy of you ever again, but I speak the truth when I say that I have never stopped loving you,” he whispered softly, as he noticed Glanion drift off.

Faer looked up at him.

“You… _loved_ … me?” she stuttered. Thranduil smiled at her disbelief.

“I always have… I don’t care who you were… _are_ …” he corrected himself.

“… or who you felt you needed to pretend to be… you were one and the same…” he was interrupted.

“I never pretended to be anyone I’m not,” she raised her voice, while Glanion stirred on her arm.

“And I know that now,” he sighed in shame.

“I should have made more of an effort to know whom I married… then I wouldn’t have caused this mess. I can never express to you enough how sorry I am for what has happened and I was a fool to dismiss you so easily after the truth was revealed… I…” Thranduil stopped talking, as he felt he had no more words to share that could offer more apologies or convey his remorse.

“I am tired… I need to sleep,” she changed the subject, not yet ready to accept her husband’s apology.

“Would you like me to put Glanion in his crib?” Thranduil asked kindly.

“No,” she quickly replied, tightening the protective embrace around her child.

“I will _not_ take our son away from you,” Thranduil tried to convince her. Faer wanted to believe him. He sighed audibly.

“Very well… he sleeps with you, and I will be here when you both wake again,” he whispered, as he kissed Faer tenderly on her forehead. Sleep came quickly, but Thranduil’s troubled mind remained. He had destroyed more than he had thought.

*** 

Faer woke the next morning. She felt much better than she had felt in a long time. She was well-rested and found she had an appetite. She looked around the room, then realised Glanion was not within her sight. Where was he? Fear gripped her, as she jumped off the bed. Her legs felt wobbly, but she had enough strength to go and find her son. She would not lose him again.

She heard faint noises from the bathing area and carefully moved towards it. She wasn’t prepared for what she saw next and a lump quickly formed in her throat.

“Doesn’t that feel nice, little one?” Thranduil spoke softly, while carefully holding his son in place against his bare shoulder. He lifted some of the warm water into his hands and let it trickle onto the baby’s back. She noticed him go deeper into the water on occasion, letting the infant feel the water all around him.

His gentle hand carefully caressed the infant’s white blond hair, which much resembled his own. Thranduil spoke in hushed whispers to his son.

“Glanion… _shining white_ … your mother chose your name well,” he said, as he tenderly pressed his lips onto the soft tuft of white on top of the baby’s head.

“Wh… what are you doing?” Faer demanded to know. Thranduil looked up and smiled at his wife.

“ _We_ … are having a bath, because this handsome boy had a small accident earlier,” he explained, keeping his voice calm and soothing as he turned his attention to his son once more.

“We didn’t want to wake you,” he continued.

“Isn’t he hungry?” she wondered.

“I would expect he is,” he stated, as he turned towards the steps that would lift him and his son from the bath. Faer looked away, not yet ready to regard her naked husband. Thranduil noticed and smirked.

He struggled to put on his robe, while holding onto his son, before handing him to his mother. He guided her back to the sleeping area by carefully placing his hand on the small of her back.

_Patience_ , he thought to himself.

She again settled on the bed, pushing the fabric of her night tunic away from her breasts, to allow for her baby to indulge in stilling his hunger. 

“I know our son is not the only one who is hungry,” Thranduil remarked, while observing her protruding collar bones, indicating her weight loss. Faer nodded in acknowledgement, giving Thranduil the go ahead of having some breakfast brought to his chambers.

Only a short while later, one of the servants brought an assortment of cold cuts, fresh bread and tea. Faer had settled at the large table in the ante-chamber, while Thranduil seated himself close by, the crib located between them, so they could both keep an eye on Glanion.

***


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Days passed. Thranduil spent a lot of time with his young son and getting re-acquainted with his estranged wife. She was relatively quiet and did not say much, which was something he found difficult to handle. He was able to tell she was processing all that had happened in the cycles prior to her returning to the kingdom. From time to time, he caught her sobbing silently, while holding onto Glanion, hoping her love for her son would comfort her. It did mostly. Thranduil often regarded them from afar, wondering what else it was he could do to make Faer trust him as she had done before.

“Doing nothing will not achieve anything, father,” came a voice from behind him, as Thranduil watched Faer and Glanion from a safe distance. He turned his head to find his other son, Legolas, staring at him.

“But I have done everything… I have given Faer back a comfortable home, I have been caring, I have been a loving father to Glanion… I…” he glanced down at the grassy ground beneath his feet.

“… and you have been a fool,” Legolas said, making Thranduil flare his nostrils at him.

“I do beg your pardon?” he huffed

“Yes, Faer has been hurt, and I see how hard you are trying to repair that what was destroyed… but I daresay, you are done repairing… it is time to start building again,” Legolas spoke in riddles.

“Careful now, son,” Thranduil gave him a frown.

“How long will you pussyfoot around her… you love her… don’t you think it is time you showed her?” Legolas insisted.

“But I have been showing…” Thranduil halted, as he was cut off again.

“No… you have not… _love_ her,” Legolas said, rolling his eyes lightly, wondering what else he could say to make his father see sense.

“She is your wife, father. You thought you knew her… you did not, yet you were drawn to her alter ego, when really she was one and the same person… you fell for her, that was blatantly clear… woo her!” Legolas had raised his voice, as he was almost ready to smack his father upside the head to make him realise what it was his son was telling him.

“I have forgotten how to,” Thranduil spoke softly, concerned that if he tried to approach her in the way he desired, he would only scare her off again.

“Have you though? Because I see my little brother there… so I know for a fact that you haven’t,” Legolas huffed, a smirk on his lips.

“This is the last I will say on the matter, after that you will be on your own, but you have to properly love her, it is the only way to convince her that you are sincere… she may fight you… but… you will simply have to _not_ take no for an answer… you are good at that… remember?” his son grinned as he spoke wise words. Thranduil gazed at Legolas, wondering when he had become such a good advisor. He watched his son walk away from him, as the words mulled inside his head.

*** 

Faer had finally conjured up the courage to leave Glanion with the nanny, which Thranduil had assigned to the little boy. At first she remained by the nanny’s side, not wanting to lose sight of her precious son, but as she learned how lovingly and skilfully the nanny cared for the little boy, her mind calmed and Faer ultimately found a sense of peace. Thranduil had managed to convince Faer to let Glanion sleep in an adjoining room, giving her the well-deserved rest she needed during the nights. The nanny would tend to the little one’s needs, and was tasked to only wake Faer when he had to be fed. She was sceptical at first, but eventually gave in. She indicated that if she didn’t like it, she would bring Glanion back to sleep beside her. Thranduil had agreed. He could not deny her anything, nor did he want to.

While Thranduil tended to kingly duties and the nanny fussed over the baby, Faer found herself to be burdened with free time she was not used to having. It was a welcome change. She had wandered around the palace, realising that she was still not quite familiar with the vastness of the dwelling and allowed herself to explore. The sun shone brightly, beckoning Faer to venture outside. She crossed fields within the palace walls and ended up standing under a tree, overlooking a clearing in the forest. The weather was warm, but she suspected that the threatening clouds in the distance would bring about cooler temperatures.

The wind had gradually started to pick up and it played with the ends of her long brown curly locks. The gown she was wearing required some getting used to, since she had worn nothing but tunics and leggings for a long time before returning to the Woodland Realm. Gentle gusts made the fabric of her gown dance, making her feel as though she was being levitated. 

Quite suddenly she heard the rustling of other garments other than her own, being brought on so by the increasing breeze around the palace. As she turned, she noticed none other than her husband treading carefully in her direction. She gasped. She suppressed the urge to run, because she knew she shouldn’t. She really didn’t want to. She desired for Thranduil to be close… _closer_ … she needed him.

“How are you feeling?” he asked yet again. Faer’s lips formed into a careful smile.

“I am fine,” she spoke in honesty, though she wanted to feel even better and knew that it was her husband who had the power to make that happen.

“I am happy to hear it,” he said as he moved closer, until there was barely any space left between them. Faer blushed, which was something Thranduil had picked up in an instant. His eyes brightened hopefully at her response.

“Are you enjoying the palace gardens?” he asked, making idle conversation. The way in which he was trying to converse with her, made Faer chuckle within. He was trying.

“I am… I see there is a storm coming?” she pointed in the direction of the dark clouds that rolled in quicker than she had anticipated. Thranduil did not immediately respond.

“I care not about a storm…” he paused, while taking a strand of her long brown locks between his thumb and index finger. He moved himself closer. She could feel the heat from his body radiate towards her. Goose bumps appeared on her arms. She was grateful for wearing a gown that held long sleeves.

“Surely you do… you have to ensure the safety of your people when there is a storm brewing,” she suggested.

“My people… are quite capable of taking care of themselves… I am more concerned with the safety of the one here with me at this very moment,” he spoke kindly. Faer looked up.

“I too am quite capable of taking care of myself,” she responded.

“I am much aware of that… but I too would like to take care of you,” his face drew closer to hers. She could hear him breathing through his nose, as his eyes seemed to penetrate her very soul as though he was reading her thoughts. Faer thought long and hard on what she wanted to say next. She decided to take a leap of faith and whispered.

“I would like it if you took care of me!”

Thranduil swallowed hard. His face hovered close to hers, while he carefully circled his arm around her waist, pulling her closer. Faer could feel the blood in her body rush through her as fast as the speed of light. Her heart thumped in a way that it felt as though it would never be controlled again. She felt the core between her legs become warm and tingly. He did that to her. 

Faer was unsure what Thranduil wanted to do next. He seemed to take forever to make the next move and for a good while he just seemed to want to stare at her. The silence between them was interrupted by a thunder that could be heard in the distance. Then Thranduil spoke.

“I will never let you go again,” he stated as he tried to control his ragged breathing. Faer placed one hand against his chest, while she circled the other around his waist to be placed against his lower back. She exercised light pressure, bringing him in even closer. Thranduil’s heart jumped. She had just given him her permission. Soft warm lips made contact with Faer’s equally soft and warm lips. They merely brushed at first, but soon after, she felt the tip of her husband’s tongue graze along her bottom lip carefully. She sighed contently, letting him know that he was allowed to continue. They both parted their lips, their tongues touched in the slightest of touches. Caution quickly turned into passion, as both allowed the warmth of their mouths to explore and relish each other’s actions. Thranduil tasted a hint of ginger from the tea Faer had consumed earlier, while Faer was able to conclude her husband had eaten a fresh green apple not long before. She pulled back slightly, swiping her tongue across his lips, tasting the tangy sweetness of the fruit. Ultimately she pulled back completely, regarding her husband’s somewhat swollen lips, slightly parted, as she was taking him in. She was getting to know him all over again, but she did not mind.

A loud crash in the skies above startled them both, as thunder roared, unleashing hell over the kingdom. A lightning bolt had managed to make its way to one of the tall trees that stood nearby. It instantly caught fire and within a mere blink of an eye, it buckled under the power that had been inflicted on it. Thick rain poured down on the palace gardens, as well as on the two lovers that none could have pried apart only moments before.

Thranduil created a small distance between them, before gripping Faer’s hand tightly and pulling her with him. They were sprinting towards the palace, as heavy drops soaked their very souls. Once they had reached the safety of the palace, he didn’t stop, but kept tugging her with him, eager to find the privacy of his domain. His entire being screamed fire and Faer tried to control her breathing, wondering what it was her husband was doing. Deep down she knew, she hoped, as she craved for the same, as the glimpse of fire in Thranduil’s eyes had made her entire body burn.

With a loud thud of the closing door, he yanked her inside the royal chambers, but she wasn’t moving quickly enough, and before Faer realised what had happened, Thranduil had lifted her up and was carrying her through to the sleeping area, where the comfortable bed beckoned. As they stood by the bed, his lips were on hers once more. The tenderness he had shown earlier had gone. He needed her and was desperate to become one with the one elf he had the misfortune of missing for all those cycles. He wanted to fix that what had been broken and while he had been kind and patient with her, he only knew of one way to complete his apology. He tugged at the wet fabric that clung to her pale skin. Her nipples had become hard because of the cool rain and the moment he freed her breasts from their confinements, he lifted his hands to squeeze the soft flesh. He ensured to be careful, as she was breastfeeding after all. Her breathing had become laboured, but apart from that she made no sound. She had forgotten how to. Thranduil had finally managed to push her gown down only to have it gather at her bare feet, before he proceeded to remove his own garments. Before long, both stood naked in each other’s presence. 

Slowly he lifted his hands to trail his fingers lightly across her collar bones, followed by grazing her shoulders, as she placed her hands on his hips. He flinched at her touch, making his abdominal muscles strain and twitch. She wanted to venture lower, but dared not, as his erection already stood proudly, awaiting to be given attention. 

He took her wrists into his hands, noticing the scar he had inflicted long ago, during their sparring session. He softly placed his lips on it, conveying further regret, before lowering her hand to his hard flesh. She swallowed audibly, before carefully curling her fingers around him. He moaned at the sensation, eliciting goose bumps on his skin. Thranduil was worried that if she were to give him that kind of attention too long, he would not be able to satisfy her. He concluded that that simply would not do. He again lifted her to place her onto the soft surface of the bed. She stared at him, as he paused, before crawling towards her on all fours. 

His hands caressed her thighs and gently parted them to expose her throbbing core to him.

“Mesmerising,” he whispered, before lowering his face. His skilled fingers parted her lips, only to find her aching bud at his mercy. He kissed it first, before lightly flicking his tongue against it, making Faer buck her hips upwards. He flicked it again, only to position his lips firmly around it shortly after, gently sucking the aroused bit of flesh. Faer did not moan, nor did she squeal, as he had hoped she would have done. Her physical response however told all, making Thranduil continue his actions passionately. She dug her hands into his long hair, keeping his head in position, letting him know that she thoroughly enjoyed having him there. He smirked against her flush, fully intending to pleasure her to the best of his abilities. She heard him mutter one word.

“Delicious!”

Faer arched her back in ecstasy, inviting Thranduil for more… much more. He lifted himself up, wiped his lips with the back of his hand, watching his wife writhe in a complete mess beneath his touch. He smiled, before crawling further up, hovering over her. He proceeded to suck her neck gently, while positioning his hips between her thighs. She felt him nudge her damp core and in response she lifted her knees up high. It was all the permission Thranduil needed. He gaze into her eyes and as he did, he pushed his hips forward slowly, filling her completely, as his shaft eased into the enticing warmth that was his wife’s.

Faer opened her mouth in bliss, but again no sound was made. 

Thranduil remained motionless for a moment, watching her face, as tears had started to gather in her eyes. He swiftly brushed the salty liquid away from her face with his thumbs, as they trickled down. It was his way of telling her he understood and that he vowed to never hurt her again. The palm of her hand was placed on his cheek, to ensure he understood that she would be alright. Thranduil responded by placing butterfly kisses on her eyes, the tip of her nose, before placing his lips on hers. While doing so, he carefully gyrated his hips, moving deeper into her with every push, until he found he could go no deeper. Faer opened her mouth in bliss, but remained silent, save for the quickened breathing, brought on by them coming together.

She noticed how Thranduil was pacing himself in order to make their union as pleasurable as possible, for both, but she knew that deep down, he wanted to ravish her and pound into her, until she screamed. She felt as though she could no longer respond to him in the way she had done in the past. She had become withdrawn and it made her husband feel as guilty as ever. 

While Faer’s hands travelled along his slightly sweaty back, Thranduil empowered his thrusts with the longing he had held onto for her, for so long. She sensed it and it made her core wet with desire. She opened her eyes and gasped at the dark she observed in his eyes, the kind of dark that was filled with lust, but most of all, love. The gasp was not entirely void of sound and Thranduil smiled down on her.

“That’s it, my love… let me know if I’m doing it right,” he whispered with a husky voice.

All of a sudden Thranduil rolled to be on his back, pulling his wife along with him, making her sit astride him, his shaft buried deep within her heat. Faer was oblivious for a moment on what to do, but her husband’s hips bucking upwards, made her join him in a motion that much resembled the ripples in a pond. Instinctively she rolled her hips, sensing his hardened flesh slide in and out of her with ease. She placed her hand on his pectorals for leverage, while Thranduil fondled her breasts seductively.

“I will never get enough of you,” he uttered with difficulty, while Faer finally managed a careful smile.

As he lowered his hands to rest on her hips, Faer could feel his fingers squeeze the soft flesh on her flanks, convinced that he would leave marks, but she did not care. Thranduil’s grip fortified his own thrusts, while Faer kept on rolling, massaging her aroused bud with the friction she experience between them.

A soft squeal escaped her lips and an expression of lust washed over her.

“Music to my ears,” Thranduil whispered in appreciation.

Suddenly Faer disconnected her hands from his chest, raising her arms above her head, while riding him deeply. Thranduil sat upright in response, snaking his arms around her waist, pulling her close, while Faer circled her legs around him. A seesaw motion intensified the emotions that had been triggered between them and it caused Thranduil to suck the salty flesh on her neck hard. 

Another squeal.

The sheets crumpled around them, as they both dug their feet in the fabric, to intensify their movements, until Thranduil had enough and flipped them both, assuming the dominant position once more. Faer’s legs remained around his waist, her heels resting against his rear. She felt him push into her harder and faster and before she realised, moans crossed her lips. Thranduil’s heart exploded. He adored hearing her as such, letting him know that she in fact loved what he was doing to her.

“Louder, my love,” he urged her to be away with her silence.

He dislodged her legs from around his waist and sat up on his knees, the insides of his thighs against her rear, while placing his hands on the hollows of her knees, effectively opening her up to him further. The position gave Thranduil free reign over the deepest of penetrations, allowing him to reach deep down to massage her most delicate spot.

A guttural yelp escaped from her throat, as Thranduil nudged the sensitive location that was hiding within her warmth. He smirked, releasing one of her legs, freeing his hand to rub his thumb across her throbbing bundle of nerves, that was so deliciously exposed to him. He noticed how the veins in her neck protruded suddenly as she tensed the muscles beneath them. Her walls clenched, tightening her entrance profusely. He closed his eyes. She would come first. Not him… _never_ him!

Fast circular movements by his thumb quite suddenly paid off in pleasuring her. She started to shudder, her walls clamping down on him and like the thunder that raged on outside, she screamed his name loudly as she came. Thranduil managed to prolong her climax as he kept thrusting into her hard, until he could no longer hold back. Waves of shock coursed through Faer’s entire body, making Thranduil erupt deep inside her beautiful core. He groaned loudly, giving her another thrust or two, before collapsing on top of her. Faer sensed the rise and fall of his abdomen between them, as both were trying to regulate their breathing. Faer’s damp hair had spread on the mattress beneath, while Thranduil’s wet strands tickled her shoulders, as his eyes faced his wife. Faer felt his warm breaths of exhaling against her skin, while the sweat that had pooled between them, made their skins stick together. A tender kiss to her brow followed.

Eventually Thranduil slipped from her warmth and positioned himself to sit against the head board of the bed, lifting his knees up, resting his elbows on top of them. Faer remained on the bed diagonally, panting in an attempt to regain control over her own body. She enjoyed the exquisite view of her husband’s scrotum and flaccid penis between his thighs, while slowly bringing her own thighs together with difficulty, brought on so by the exercise they had ended mere moments before.

“That was…” she managed, but no other words crossed her lips. She reached for Thranduil’s leg, the one that was closest to her and draped it across her chest, just below her breasts. She played with his foot and toes with one hand, while the other lightly brushed against his thigh, moving up and down the length of it. She caressed his thigh, his hips and then let her fingers travel back again. She repeated it several times, while allowing her other hand to fumble with his foot. 

Both listened to the storm outside, the rain clattering against the window pane that allowed for an otherwise perfect view from the chambers. Faer sighed deeply, making Thranduil wonder what was on her mind.

“I feel incredible,” she finally spoke. Thranduil was by her side in an instant, his head propped up on his elbow, while an arm draped across her abdomen, where his leg had been previously. He kissed her tenderly.

“It is what you deserve… after how terribly I treated you, this was the least I could do… I love you too much to have you feel differently,” Thranduil spoke in honesty.

“And I love you… I wouldn’t have let you come close, had that not been the case,” she admitted. He nuzzled her neck in response, feeling a tremendous relief wash over him. He suddenly raised his head.

“Marry me,” he said, which was a statement that made Faer chuckle.

“We are already married, my love,” she stated, a slight confusion in her eyes.

“I am aware of that… but it was, _is_ , an arranged marriage, one that has worked to neither of our benefits… I want to marry for love,” he said as he looked into her eyes deeply.

“How will that work?” she wondered, knowing that all the ceremonies that took place when they married long ago, were already as official as they could be.

“We will work something out… I want to celebrate my love for you, my beautiful Faerthurin… our love for one another… a celebration that is joyous, in a way that you were denied before,” Thranduil explained. She stared at him, as he hovered over her, his hair tickling both her shoulder, as well as his own.

“I think I will like that,” she whispered.

“And so it will be done,” he whispered back, brushing his lips lightly over hers. A faint sound of complaining reached their ears, making both of them shoot up, facing the direction of the sound.

“I believe someone wants our attention,” Faer smiled.

“And attention we shall give him… now and forever,” Thranduil smiled back.  
***


End file.
